


All The Way Home

by lillyluna



Category: Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillyluna/pseuds/lillyluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan and Michael are together in London. Ryan gets attacked at morning practice and faces a lenghty recovery. Michael is there everyday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as "Down By The Water" also known as the drowning fic. The original edit of this is the first Phlochte I ever wrote and I legit couldn't even re-read it without cringing. It was also... ridiculously short (in its entirety it was shorter than DTW 5) and severly lacking pretty much everything. So I am rewriting it, for the last time. Thank you for your patience, please re-read.

“Dude.”

The beds in the athletes’ village are way too small for two people to share. Michael figures that even the gymnastics team can’t be having sleepovers yet Ryan has still managed to fall asleep on his bed with half his limbs draped over him.

“Ry.” Michael tries again, “Dude wake up.”

Michael shakes him and Ryan tucks himself in closer and groans in complaint.

“Babe, come on.” Michael shakes him again and blue eyes open slightly to glare at him, “You can’t sleep here, go to your bed.”

“Comf’table” Ryan mumbles and he closes his eyes again.

“Dude there’s no way, come on, get up and walk three feet.”

“S’cold, you move.”

“This is my bed Ry. We have practice tomorrow morning, I’m racing.”

“We sleep ‘gether all the time. S’no different.” Ryan wraps his arm around Michael’s waist and pulls himself closer.

“We have bigger beds,” Michael tries but it’s useless to argue against Ryan, especially over sleep. “Alright dude lets do this.” Michael sits up.

“Hate you.” Ryan mutters but he begrudgingly sits up too and takes two stumbling steps back to his own bed. “Say goodnight.”

“I promise after it’s over you can sleep in my bed every night.” Michael offers. “You can drool on me all you want.”

“Not moving to Baltimore.” Even half-asleep Ryan won’t forget the back and forth argument they’ve been having for months, “Move to Florida.”

“Night Ry.” Michael laughs.

Ryan’s fallen back asleep and doesn’t answer.

*

Michael wakes up the next morning and Ryan’s back in his bed but this time Ryan’s the one shaking him awake.

“Ugh, no.” Michael reaches up to stop Ryan, “Alarm hasn’t-“

“It’s your day dude, come on!”

Michael can feel Ryan straddling his legs and when he opens his eyes Ryan sits back on his heels; he’s already dressed.

“Morning.” Ryan grins down at him, “Ready to win some gold sucka?”

“Why are you dressed?” Michael yawns and brings his hands to hold Ryan’s sides, “You don’t even have to be up.”

“To cheer you on.” Ryan grins wider, “Jeah!”

Michael reaches up to ruffle Ryan’s hair and brings Ryan’s head down to rest on his chest. Ryan’s pliant under his touch and lies down on top of him.

“I asked your mom for one of those Phelps Phan t-shirts.” Ryan says his voice muffled by Michael’s chest.

“Don’t.” Michael groans and tugs at his hair a little.

“Yo, there’s no way I’m not wearing it.” Ryan props his chin up, “Your mom made mine green.”

Michael laughs, despite the fact that it’s a race day and that he’s swimming a race he hadn’t really planned on; one that hasn’t even been on his goal sheets. He laughs even though it’s five am and he could sleep for another five hours. He laughs because Ryan’s there and he doesn’t ever want him to go away.

“Fuck I love you.” He wraps both his arms across Ryan’s back and holds him close.

“Yeah there’s no way not to.” Ryan kisses him and slaps his side, “Get up dude!”

Ryan jumps off him and sits back on his own bed with his backpack already packed next to him. He watches Michael change and grab his things while absentmindedly playing with his phone.

“Do we grab breakfast together?” Michael asks.

It’s this careful game they’re playing in London; being together without letting anyone who doesn’t need to know, know. They’ve been spending most of their time in public apart; taking different vans to the pool and sitting with different people at meals. It’s not shame; neither of them is hiding it to save face. They’re hiding it because it isn’t for anyone else to know, because they have a lifetime of non-public time to be with each other.

“Oh shit!” Ryan drops his phone and pulls his suitcase from under the bed.

He’s surprisingly the neat one. Michael’s things are scattered everywhere but Ryan’s clothes are folded and his shoes lined up by colour. Michael doesn’t exactly know how they’re going to manage to share a closet without killing each other when they finally move in together.

“I found these last night and like…” Ryan stops talking while he searches, “I thought they’d be perfect for… Today’s kinda big and I wanted to like…”

“If it’s one of my mom’s t-shirts,” Michael sorts through a pile of clothes trying to find an Olympic issue shirt, “You can keep it dude, I’m okay.”

“No, it’s… Here!” Ryan holds up the aluminum package, “Poptarts dude, like USA in a package.”

“What flavor?”

“Strawberry.” Ryan says like it’s the obvious answer, “Your favourite,” He dangles the package. “And like they’re almost not smashed.”

“Put them in my backpack dude.”

“Yo, that’s just being ungrateful. I MAKE you breakfast in London and you don’t want it? Weak bro.”

“They’re poptarts Ry.”

“If we were home you’d be like ‘Thanks for breakfast babe.’”

“I can’t eat poptarts before-“

“You can do whatever you want.” Ryan says inspirationally.

“Let’s just go have breakfast.”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re kinda mad, I can tell.” Michael takes his bag and kisses him, “After you can-“

“Hells no dude, after you’re making me breakfast.” Ryan grabs his own backpack and beats him out the door, “Breakfast. Every morning. In Florida.”

*

There’s no logical reason for Ryan to be at the pool; he’s finished all of his events. He could have stayed in bed until his marathon of interviews and press began later that afternoon.

Instead Ryan hangs around the pool deck weaving his way through team meetings, pep talks and early morning practice.

Michael however isn’t done and he stretches. With his headphones firmly in place he absentmindedly keeps an eye on Ryan and tries not to think about the plans they have for when all his races are over and they’re out of the room with the tiny beds and settled into a hotel.

Michael smiles when he sees Ryan dancing near the diving blocks at the other end of the pool. He’s wearing his neon-green sneakers (Michael has a sneaking suspicion that he’s wearing them because they’ll match his Phelps Phan t-shirt once the race starts), and rapping along to Lil Wayne. He’s being obnoxious and cocky and well… he’s just being Ryan.

Ryan catches Michael stare and winks at him before grinning.

Michael turns away knowing he’s three seconds away from being yelled at for being distracted. The last thing he needs is for half of the world’s swimmers to hear Bob yell at him that maybe if he could just take his eyes off Lochte for one goddamn second he’d be done stretching.

He turns his music up and drops his head, when he looks up he notices people laughing and shoves the right headphone off his ear.

“You know,” He overhears one of the South African swimmers say, “He had it coming.”

Everyone else laughs.

“What happened?” Michael asks.

“Ry got pushed in.” Tyler tells him. “He was pissing off the French team. He was crowding one of their blocks.”

Michael looks around the pool once and doesn’t see the flash of green shoes anywhere.

“Where is he?” Michael pushes down the hood of his sweater and looks more carefully around.

“Ry? Probably chasing whoever pushed him in.”

“Did you see him get out of the pool?” Michael gives the deck another sweep, “Because I don’t see him-“

Almost on cue (in the weeks to come this moment would come back to haunt Michael’s dreams) someone on the opposite side of the pool yells “There’s blood on block four, who’s hurt?”

Michael dives into the pool without thinking, knowing he can swim faster than he can run. Every cell in his body hopes that he doesn’t find Ryan. That he’ll surface and Ryan will be standing near the edge laughing at him for his freakout: “I can swim MP.”

It’s hard to see without his goggles but he spots Ryan’s stupid shoes almost right away; Ryan’s not moving.

He grabs Ryan across the chest and pulls him up to the surface. Once they surface, Ryan’s head sickeningly flops backwards to rest on Michael’s shoulder; his whole body is limp. The gash on his head bleeds copiously on both of them

“Ry.” He yells at him, “Ryan! Ry-an. Come on Doggy.”

But Ryan’s not opening his eyes and Michael realizes with horror that he’s also not breathing.

“I NEED HELP!” Michael yells.

He knows from the CPR training they take every year that he can start mouth to mouth while they’re still in the pool. He knows he has too; Ryan’s been under for more than a minute.

Others have jumped in to help him out but he ignores them. He manages to prop Ryan up against the lane dividers and starts breathing for him. It’s nothing like kissing him; Ryan’s lips are cold and unresponsive. Ryan’s body doesn’t even feel like Ryan. None of it feels real.

There’s a heart beat though, he can feel Ryan’s heartbeat. Someone grabs his shoulder and pulls him back.

“It’s too risky in the water! We’re taking him out!”

Michael doesn’t even know who yells it out but they take Ryan away from him. Michael doesn’t move. He leans forward against the lane divider and the blood that had pooled in the hollow of his collarbone starts to drip down into the water. There’s a spectacular amount of blood on him.

“Keep him steady, watch his spine!” Someone yells again.

“He’s not breathing. I could feel his pulse.” Michael shouts helplessly but his voice sounds small.

He hangs on to the lane divider because he’s having a hard time remembering how to breathe, like his breath left him when he noticed Ryan wasn’t breathing. His eyes are level with the pool deck and he sees a backboard and the white running shoes of the medical staff. There’s a crowd blocking him from Ryan but he can’t manage to swim to the pool edge and his arms feel too weak to pull himself up. The longer he stays in the water the longer-

“His pulse is steady, can we have some oxygen!”

He can pretend–

“STEP BACK! GIVE HIM AIR!”

That everything is-

“Get out of the pool Phelps!” The last command is from Bob and it snaps Michael back to reality.

He climbs out to see the medical team, the one they’re always assured are the best in the world, working on Ryan. There’s a ventilation mask over his face and they move it away when Ryan starts to violently throw up water.

The pool is total chaos. There’s shouting coming from the ready room and the lockers. Camera crews argue ardently for the right to keep filming while security tries to block their shot. The ten feet radius around Ryan is eerily calm though, the medical staff methodically compressing the ventilation bag, checking Ryan’s pulse, and covering him in blankets.

Michael watches transfixed, they’re keeping pressure on Ryan’s head wound but there’s still a pool of blood on the tiles. His eyes don’t open and his lips are still blue. He looks dead.

You felt his pulse, Michael reminds himself, he’s alive.

“Are you hurt?” A woman steps in front of him wearing gloves, calling him back to earth “You’re bleeding.”

“No, it’s Ryan’s….” Michael explains but he doesn’t look at her he’s still staring at Ryan who’s still not fucking moving.

“We’re going to need you to step back to give the medics some room.” She gently grabs his arm. “If you go sit over there we’d like to take a look at you too, you seem-“

“No.” He argues, “I have to stay here. I’m going with him.”

His mind kicks into gear, he has to convince someone that he needs to go with Ryan; that they have to let him in the ambulance. He needs a way to explain it without outing their relationship to the whole aquatic centre.

“Mike, come with me.” Bob’s tone is firm.

“No he’s-“ Mike starts, “I have to go with him.”

The paramedics run in with a stretcher, they put Ryan in a neck brace.

“I’m going with him!” Michael argues.

“We’re going to walk away Mike. Let them do their job.”

“Someone has to go with Ryan. He hates needles and the smell of-“

They’ve put Ryan up on the stretcher and there’s a massive pool of blood on the tile where he was laying down. Michael’s legs almost give out, he feels sick.

“I’m going to need help with him.” He hears Bob call but it sounds far away.

“I don’t need help,” He manages to say, trying to sound rational, “I need to follow Ryan. I have his glasses in my bag.” Which he does because Ryan had forgotten them the day before and he’d grabbed them on his way out.

“Ryan doesn’t need his glasses right now Mike.”

“I need to go with him. He can’t die without-“

“Ryan’s not going to die.”

“He’s not breathing.” He tries to make his voice sound as firm as possible, “He’s not waking up.”

“They’re working on it.”

“He’s my boyfriend!” Michael yells and it echoes through the aquatic centre. He feels ready to use all his 6 feet and 4 inches and all the strength training he’s done in his life to fight anyone who tries to prevent him from following Ryan.

“I don’t care Mike, you’re not getting in that ambulance. You have a race.” Bob doesn’t back away, doesn’t let go of his arm.

“Racing?” Michael shoots back incredulous because it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s heard, “Ryan’s fucking dying. Someone tried to fucking kill him. Where are they? I’ll fucking kill them too.”

“You’re not killing anyone Michael. Security’s taking care of it.” All the words Bob says have zero effect. Michael is so focused on Ryan that he’s not listening.

“You have to let me go.” Michael so angry he can’t see straight but he does see Ryan’s stretcher disappearing. His anger drops and he’s just pleading now, “He’s not breathing. I have to be with him.”

“Ryan is being taken care of. He’s not dying.” Bob keeps his voice calm and he feels the fight go out of Michael now that he can no longer see Ryan. “You need to get the blood off of you and get cleared by medical. Ryan’s family is on their way; they’ll be with him there. He’s not alone.”

Michael sits down on the tile, there are bloody foot prints all over and closer to the ground it’s impossible to pretend Ryan wasn’t badly injured, there’s too much blood for it to not be serious.

“I have his glasses.” He tries the most logical argument he can think of one more time. He wants to put his hands over his face but his hands are full of blood, he feels cold and the screech of the ambulance siren makes it impossible to think.

“You got him out of the pool.” Bob’s voice has lost his edge, “You did everything you could.”

“He’s my-“ Michael wishes the fucking siren would just stop, “We’re going to-“

“Michael?” The accent is definitely not Bob’s, “Michael? We’re going to get up. We’re just going to ask you some questions.”

He knows he’s lost the fight: Ryan’s gone.

*

The sound of the ambulance siren seems to get trapped in the echo of the aquatic centre; Michael can still hear it half an hour later. It almost drowns out the voice of the nurse who asks him what day of the week it is and if he knows who the prime minister is. He answers dully cradling his head in his hand, holding on to his cell phone like it’s a life line even though Devon’s too upset to text back and doesn’t seem to have any information either.

Michael walks around in a daze, aware that someone is leading him to the shower room, that someone turns on the hot water, and that someone hands him a towel.

There’s a team meeting and everyone shows up. Allison sits next to him and holds his hand. He hears Ryan’s name but can’t follow the conversation. When they leave the pool, he grabs Ryan’s backpack along with his.

*

The daze fades as the day wears on but he’s still angry and worried as hell. He can’t understand why he’s not allowed to be with Ryan and that makes him the angriest. He’s a grown man, not some stupid teenager. He should be able to call the shots and make his own decisions.

He ignores the no phone before a race rule (since everyone is ignoring the when your boyfriend is in the ICU you go see him rule) and spends the rest of the day reading text message updates from Ryan’s sister.

He reads them through lunch; He reads them through a meeting with the sport psychologist; he reads them while he’s putting on his jammers getting ready for the 100-meter fly race he doesn’t want to swim.

Ryan’s unconscious, a fucking machine is breathing for him but his oxygen levels are rising, his vital signs are strong, and he’s responding to painful stimuli - whatever the fuck that is.

Michael doesn’t know enough medical jargon bullshit to weigh the good news against the bad (though he’s pretty sure he hates the idea of anyone painfully stimulating Ryan). He searches some of it on WebMD but stops once he gets into articles about brain damage, blood oxygen levels and the Glasgow Coma Scale.

The text messages stop coming when he’s finally alone in the locker room. He can’t remember the last time he was getting ready for a race without Ryan and it doesn’t feel right.

He freezes when his phone rings and Devon’s name pops up on caller ID.  
“Hey kid.” He answers trying to keep his voice normal.

Michael can’t begin to imagine how Devon’s dealing with all of this. Devon is the first contact in Ryan’s phone and they talk to each other all the time. Devon is the only person Ryan will answer his phone for in the middle of the night and one of the only people he’s ever gotten in fights for.

“Dev?” Michael asks again, “How is he?” He whispers it because there are other people in the locker room.

Devon doesn’t talk but Michael can hear him sniff into the phone.

“It’s okay Dev.” Michael tells him even though he knows it’s not, “What’s going on?”

“He’s not waking up.” Devon’s voice is raw and sounds worn out, he sounds like he’s panicking “They shaved his-“

“Did you see him?” Michael asks.

“No. They were doing tests and then-“ Devon takes a breath, “He crashed and they-“

“He crashed?”

That bit of info had definitely not been in the updates, he wonders what else he hasn’t been told.

“His heart was all over the place and so they had to get it back to.” Devon doesn’t finish his though, “We’re just waiting.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“What if he doesn’t- No one wants to listen to me… I just wanna see.“ Devon’s voice chokes out and Michael can hear him cry.

Devon is inconsolable and although he’s afraid of the same things, of Ryan not waking up, of Ryan dying before he gets there, of Ryan never being… Ryan. Michael knows he owes it to Ryan to make sure Devon is okay.

“You have a race.” Devon sniffs after awhile, “Fuck I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Dev, it’s okay.” Michael insists.

“What would.” Devon clears his throat and his voice is steadier, “What would like Ry tell you?”

“You don’t have to Dev”

“No like I gotta.”

There’s the whooshing sound of wind and Michael wonders why Devon’s outside and not in with his family.

“Like… You’re pretty much like family and we gotta take care of each other.” Devon seems adamant.

“What would Ry do?” Michael asks the question that’s been hanging around the back of his mind all day, “If like it was-“

“Ryan would be here.” Devon says without thinking about it, “But like… You’re better there. He’d want you to be there.”

Michael knows Devon’s not lying and he knows that Devon’s one of the only people on earth who understands the way Ryan’s brain works.

“Thanks Dev.”

“No like… You totally talked me down I was-“ Devon stops himself, “Go win dude.”

“If they let you see Ry-“

“I’ll tell him you’re like on your way.” Devon sounds a little braver, “He’ll like be waiting.”

“Go be with your family okay? Don’t stay alone.”

“Thanks for.”

“It’s all good-”

“Go do your thing bro. We’ll see you later.”

Devon hangs up before Michael can say bye, something Ryan does constantly, and Michael’s back to being on his own

He digs through his bag for his goggles and he finds them wrapped around the package of Pop Tarts Ryan had given him that morning.

Ryan’s scribbled something on it with a sharpie. His handwriting was hurried and the cellophane is crumpled. It takes Michael a few seconds before he makes out the message: “Bring it home MP.”

“Fuck it.” Michael calls out. He grabs his t-shirt from the bench and pulls it back on “I’m getting a cab.”

“No you’re not.” Bob says, like he’s been hovering around the corner waiting for Michael to make up his mind. “You’re staying here.”

“This is bullshit. You can’t keep me here.” He’s looking for his wallet, “That’s kidnapping.”

“Ryan has people with him, he’s not alone.”

“He was alone in the ambulance!” Michael argues

“They were saving his life in that ambulance, you would have just been in the way.” Bob sighs, “Look, he’s stable now-”

“How do you know?” Michael interrupts

“Do you think you’re the only one getting updates?”

“Sorry.”

“Ryan’s stable.” Bob repeats, “You’re not going to help anyone by pacing a waiting room. Ryan would want you to swim, he’d be pissed as hell if he knew you were blowing your chance for him.”

“Ryan would be with me.” Michael argues, “He wouldn’t-“

“You’re not Lochte.”

Michael looks down at the Pop Tart wrapper and knows it’s true. He bows his head, laces his fingers together behind his neck. His thumb brushes over a hickey Ryan had left the night before.

“Do you trust me Mike?”

“Yes...” He doesn’t raise his head.

“You’re going to swim. Got it?” Bob smacks the top of his head lightly “Look at me.”

“Got it.” Michael looks up.

“Lochte’s a punk but he’s tough as nails.”

Michael nods because there’s no way he’s going to cry in the locker room before a race. He wishes the numbness from earlier would come back.

“Your mom wants you to call her.” Bob adds,

Michael groans and shakes his head, there’s no way he can keep it together if he calls his mom. He drops his phone into his pocket as an answer.

“I thought so but I said I’d-“ He trails off, “Just-“ He doesn’t finish.

“Yeah.” Michael nods because after this many years Bob doesn’t need to say things for him to get it.

“I’ll be out on deck.” Bob says, “Don’t make me wait. You’ll feel better once you’re swimming.”


	2. Bro, come to the light.

Michael hates that Bob is right.  
  
It takes him just over fifty seconds to win gold but for those 51.21 seconds he’s not thinking of Ryan. It comes back quickly though; he touches the wall and looks up for his time and doesn’t care if he’s first or fifth. He spits out the water that’s on his lips and rips off his swim cap. He doesn’t look up at the stands and he can’t even bring himself to clap LeClos on the back even though he knows the kid worships him.  
  
He sees his name in first place but there’s no fire. There’s no urge to slap the water and yell out in victory. He’s the first one out of the water and he stares at the ground as he heads to the warm down pool. He tries to hide his face from photographers. He dodges the microphones and the questions and lets a volunteer explain that he’s not talking to the media.  
  
As he walks by them, someone from NBC grabs his arm and Michael yanks it away.  
  
He gets through the doping test and the medal ceremony on autopilot. He can’t bring himself to get close enough to the stands to see his mom so he leaves his bouquet on one of the medics’ first aid bags.  
  
This time, he needs a team of security to get him through the media because there’s no warm down pool excuse and they seem to know he’s upset. For any other decent human beings it would mean leaving him alone but the media’s not exactly decent and everyone’s trying to get the story.  
  
The questions that are screamed in his direction range from obvious; “Do you know what happened to Ryan Lochte?” to the almost cruel; “How do you swim after your best friend is-“. Michael balls his fists up and keeps walking, he can imagine the stories tomorrow: ruthless competitor Michael Phelps keeps swimming despite best friend’s accident. He knows it’s not who he is but he can’t help but feel that maybe it is a little because he could have left.  
  
He barely notices being guided through a door and leaving the aquatic center. There’s a car parked three feet away and one of the security guards guides him into it and shuts the door.  
  
Michael leans his head back and pulls his hat down over his face. It’s the first time since diving into the pool to look for Ryan that he feels like he can breathe.  
  
“Look, I’m not a violent guy man.” He tells the driver, “but I swear if you drive me back to the village instead of the hospital-“  
  
“We have a police escort to the hospital Mr. Phelps.” The driver assures him.  
  
The police sirens start wailing twenty seconds before his car starts to move. They don’t help, they just remind him of Ryan’s blue lips and of blood on pool tiles.  
  
The sirens are too loud to tune out; they’re so loud he almost doesn’t hear his phone ring.  
  
“Hi.” He answers without checking the caller ID, expecting Devon.  
  
“I’m sorry Mike, I didn’t want to call you-” It’s his agent.  
  
“I really don’t have time to-“ Michael interrupts; it’s not that he doesn’t have time he just really doesn’t care about anything that’s not Ryan right now. He can’t even remember where he put his medal.  
  
“This is important. I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t-“  
  
“No comment.” Michael groans ready to hang up, “That’s my statement-“  
  
“There was a camera crew filming at the Aquatic Centre this morning,” His agent cuts him off, “They sold their footage.”  
  
“Who the fuck would buy that?” Michael sits up straight. He remembers the fight over the right to keep filming; how close the crew had been to the accident.  
  
“Everyone.” His answer is short, “Look, we’re trying to stop it, Ryan’s family fired his publicist. They’re not speaking to the media but it’s going live back home in a few hours. We have to think damage control.”  
  
“Damage control?” It’s the last thing from Michael’s mind. He turns his back to the window and his props legs up across the backseat. “There’s no damage! Ryan’s the one who got pushed and none of us could get to the motherfucker who did it before security.”  
  
“The part where you yell that he’s your boyfriend? That’s what.”  
  
“There’s no damage.” He says, “I don’t care.” He has nothing else to say. He’s angry that their relationship falls under damage. They’d kept it a secret because it was private; not because they were ashamed.  
  
“We can deny it, their audio isn’t that great. We can also choose not to comment.”  
  
“Do whatever, I don’t care.” The sirens are so goddamn loud that he can’t think. Every time he closes his eyes he sees the blood on the tiles and Ryan’s almost grey skin.  
  
“What about Ryan, Mike?” The question is heavy; “I don’t want to ask his parents to make this decision for him. It’s why I called you. Did you two talk about something like this or what you would say? Did you have a plan?”  
  
 **Shanghai, 2012**  
  
All of Ryan’s things are already packed and he sits on his bed watching Michael hunt under the hotel room dresser for his passport.  
  
“It’s my last Olympics Ry,” Michael says, his voice slightly muffled by the carpet. He can see the edge of his passport but can’t get his hand to move the extra inch to grab it, “But you’re still shooting for Rio… I don’t want to fuck it up for you.”  
  
“You think once people know I’m gay they won’t want to watch me walk around in jammers? Because like, I think it might even-“ Ryan laughs and doesn’t finish his sentence.  
  
“Your sponsors bro.” Michael feels like they’ve been having this talk for days and it annoys him that Ryan’s so carefree about it. Like coming out will change nothing.  
  
“They drop me, I get new ones.” Ryan shrugs easily, like he’s thought of this a million times, “Everyone drops me; I still have you. I’m good.”  
  
“You say that but-“ Michael forgets trying to reach his passport and sits with his back to the dresser watching Ryan who’s sitting a foot higher than him.  
  
“Nah dude, I know it.” Ryan grins at him, “I’ve thought about it and shit. Like really thought about it, I made a list. A list.” Ryan repeats list like he’s trying to prove what a big fucking deal he’s made out of this decision.  
  
Michael figures the list was probably written on the back of a gas receipt but he knows it’s existence is a big deal, Ryan goes with the flow he doesn’t really ever stop to think.  
  
“So like I figured, after writing my list,” Ryan keeps talking, “that being able to like go to the grocery store with you and um ask if we need more toothpaste or orange juice or whatever… that’s more important than having Speedo written across my chest.”  
  
“I just don’t want you to-“  
  
“I won’t. We gotta like move this along you know? We can’t just keep doing the same shit we’ve been doing since we were 18. I’m like almost thirty.” Ryan says the number like it’s a dirty word. “I want kids and shit.”  
  
“I want that too.”  
  
“With you.” Ryan adds, “Before Rio. If we come out and all my sponsors drop me I’ll keep swimming dude. I never did it for money.”  
  
Michael knows it’s the truth. He gets up and lies across Ryan’s bed propping his head up on Ryan’s lap. He stares at his upside down face.  
  
“We don’t have to put out a statement.” Ryan combs his fingers through Michael’s hair, smoothing all of it down in one direction; rubbing the pads of his fingers against his scalp, “Or like throw a parade or go to a parade but like we can move in together and just people will figure it out.”  
  
“How’re you gonna live through winter?” Michael’s eyes are half closed.  
  
“How d’you figure I’m moving to Baltimore?” Ryan swatted at Michael’s head.  
  
“I’ll wear you down Lochte.”  
  
“Not a chance.”  
  
 **London, 2012**  
  
“Don’t deny it.” Michael answers but it’s hard to talk around the knot in his throat. The memory of the conversation hurts more than being sucker punched across the face and then kicked in the stomach. “We were going to come out after London, so we don’t care what you say. I have to go.”  
  
Michael doesn’t wait for a reply; he ends the call and drops the phone on his lap. He digs the heel of his hands against his stinging eyes, trying to will the tears away. They can’t be that far from the hospital and there’s no way he’s showing up already crying.  
  
The phone on his lap vibrates and he ignores it for a second thinking it’s just his agent calling back but when he looks down there’s a text message from Devon.  
  
“Critical but stable. U can see him. 3 floor”  
  
*  
  
The hospital has turned a boardroom into a private waiting room for Ryan’s family one floor below the ICU. It’s where the hospital volunteer brings Michael once he gets there.  
  
There’s a stack of blankets and pillows in a corner. There’s food on the conference table along with a mess of charger cables. Flowers, cards and balloons are already lined up neatly waiting to be sorted through. The white board is filled with scribbled down names, numbers and a hastily drawn pair of lungs.  
  
It’s empty except for Devon who doesn’t even look up when he walks in. Devon sits on one of the couches and there’s a pillow behind him and a blanket folded at his feet, like someone had told him to get some sleep and walked out to not disturb him.  
  
Devon is furiously typing on what looks like Ryan’s macbook. He only stops staring at the screen to wipe his eyes with his sleeve.  
  
Michael stands awkwardly at the door and clears his throat, “Hey Dev.”  
  
“Dude.” Devon shoves the laptop beside and scrambles over the arm of the couch. “Finally, we’ve been like… Shit dude there’s lawyers and my parents fired Erica and they keep kicking us out of ICU. You’re here fuck.” Devon hugs him tight.  
  
“Where’s everyone?” Michael asks him. He can feel the wet sleeve of Devon’s sweater against the his neck. He rubs his hand on Devon’s back.  
  
“My sisters had to go back… The kids and my dad is calling a bunch of people… My mom’s with Ry. It’s two people at a time and they kick us out when someone like… comes in or does bad… He wasn’t so good before they had to shock his heart and his oxygen levels were low.”  
  
Devon pulls away and wipes at his eyes again. He shifts his weight from one leg to the next and stares at something beyond Michael’s head.  
  
“It’s okay Dev.” Michael tries.  
  
“No.” Devon shakes his head, “It’s not.”  
  
“Have you seen Ry?” Michael takes Devon by the arm and guides him back to the couch. There’s a plate of uneaten food next to the laptop.  
  
Devon shakes his head and pulls his baseball cap low over his eyes, “No.” His voice is quiet, “I can’t.”  
  
“When your mom comes back, you should go.” Michael moves the macbook and the plate to the floor and slides closer to Devon.  
  
“I can’t.” Devon insists, “The smell and like the machines and- That fucking asshole dude, who does that? Ry’s the greatest guy and he-“  
  
“I know.” Michael leans his head back. He’s fought so hard to be here and now that he is, he’s exhausted. Now that he’s here the urgency is gone and the adrenaline is fading away.  
  
“You have to go buzz the ICU for them to let you in.” Devon explains. “You’re on the list of people who can go see Ry. Just tell them your name and they’ll let you in. His nurse is nice. She talked to us.”  
  
“He’s stable?”  
  
“Yeah.” Devon voice sounds a bit steadier, “They said they were breathing for him ‘cause his oxygen levels are low but like his brain isn’t swelling and his heart’s good. He’s out though… I’ve googled it and like he can probably still hear so you gotta talk to him.”  
  
“Come with me Dev, you can go in before me. Your mom’s there. It’s just Ry.”  
  
“No.” Devon shakes his head, “I… like I don’t wanna… I remember him like before and-“ He tips his hat so far forward that it falls off his head, “I know I’m a pussy but-“  
  
“No.” Michael puts an arm around Devon, “I get it. Do you want me to wait with you for someone to come back before I go?”  
  
“No dude just go… You probably have to get back soon. You have a race tomorrow right?”  
  
“Yeah.” Michael hadn’t thought of tomorrow and the relay. He hadn’t bothered to check the result of the heat. He had focused everything on making it through the 100m fly to get to the hospital.  
  
“Go bro.” Devon urges him on again, “Tell Reez I’m down here and I’ll go but I like can’t right now. He’ll get it.”  
  
*  
  
The thing about Ryan is that he takes up a lot of space. He’s loud, he fidgets, he laughs the loudest, and he hits people when he talks with his hands. He’s impossible to ignore.  
  
Even while he sleeps, Ryan trashes around and flings his arm and steals blankets. Sometimes he mumbles incoherent words and Michael always wakes up with some part of Ryan draped over him.  
  
Ryan’s also always warm, even after trekking from the parking lot to the pool in the middle of a Baltimore winter. Even after he announces that he’s colder than he’s ever felt and goddamn he’s from Florida and this kind of temperature is fucking ungodly, when Michael reaches to touch him, his skin is always warm.  
  
Except now, it could really be anyone in the bed because that person’s not talking or moving and there are tubes and wires everywhere. There’s a palm sized area of Ryan’s hair that’s been shaved off and the right side of his face is bruised.  
  
“He punched him.” Ryan’s mom says when she sees Michael staring at the bruise. She’s standing near the head of Ryan’s bed, stroking the non-injured side of his head, “Then he hit his head on the block and fell in the water. The hit knocked him out.”  
  
She talks quietly and Michael is frozen in the frame of the open sliding glass door.  
  
“It looks scarier than it is.” Ryan’s nurse tells him, “Everything in there is helping him. He’s not hurting, go in.”  
  
Michael walks in slowly and stops half a foot away from Ryan’s bed. He curls one hand around the plastic bed railing and tries to make himself believe that it really is Ryan.  
  
He brushes the back of his fingers against Ryan’s face (he’s too scared to hold his hand, there’s too many needles) the skin is ice cold. It’s Ryan’s body for sure but Ryan’s not in there.  
  
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Ryan’s mom says, kissing Ryan’s cheek.  
  
“Stay!” Michael insists, “He probably-“  
  
“I should go check on Devon, I’ll be back. Keep his hands warm.” She squeezes his shoulder before walking out.  
  
The large glass doors offer him zero privacy but he really doesn’t care. It’s past ten in London, which means that back home TMZ, Extra, Entertainment Tonight and fucking NBC have all probably done a fine job telling the world that they’re together.  
  
It’s weird to be sitting so close to Ryan without talking because Ryan usually doesn’t shut up.  
  
“You should talk to him.” Ryan’s nurse suggests while she checks his vitals. Michael likes her because she ignores that he’s been sitting there for longer than the allowed fifteen minutes.  
  
“About what?” Ryan and him talk about everything but right now he can’t think of anything to say.  
  
“Anything love, give him a reason to come back.” She holds Ryan’s hand in hers and takes the tip of his ring finger between her thumb and index finger. She squeezes down and Ryan’s hand jerks away.  
  
“Don’t hurt him!” Michael reaches over and for the first time grabs Ryan’s hand, the one with the needles, the finger clip, and the hospital bracelets, and moves it away from her.  
  
“I just have to see if he responds love.” She explains gently, “No one wants him to hurt.” She pats Michael’s shoulder, “You talk to him now, alright?” She adds before leaving them.  
  
Michael examines Ryan’s hands more closely, there’s an IV and a finger clip on his left hand. He takes the right one in both of his and after a few minutes convinces himself that the IV is probably not going to rip out and holds his left one too.  
  
“I don’t know where you are Ry,” It’s the first thing that comes to his mind, “But come towards my-“ Michael can’t even finish his own sentence it’s so embarrassing that he thinks Ryan might come to just to make fun of him.  
  
So he starts talking about what they usually talk about; Michael pulls out his phone and reads ESPN headlines, skipping over the ones about Ryan’s accident. Once he’s read every article he figures would interest Ryan he starts talking about his race, about his day, and then he starts talking about them.  
  
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” He starts and he can’t seem to stop since it’s easier to apologize to Ryan when Ryan’s not brushing his apologies away with a smile. Ryan always just forgives before the apology’s ever spoken: _it’s all good jeah? I love you babe._  
  
“I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole about being careful and moving in together and just-“ He bows his head , “I’ll do whatever Ry. I’ll move to Florida and make you breakfast and I’ll tweet you back. You can get five more dogs- just fuck Ry wake up. Dev’s freaking the fuck out and I’m not you, I don’t know what to say… He’s scared to come see you. You gotta wake up Doggy.”  
  
 **Gainesville, 2010**  
  
“Sleep.” Michael reaches out to hit Ryan because it’s late as fuck and Ryan’s still sitting up in bed lighting up the whole room with his phone and making the mattress move.  
  
“Dev’s not back.” Ryan says like it’s an answer to Michael’s complaint.  
  
“Do you give him a curfew?” Michael opens one eye to see that Ryan definitely looks worried.  
  
“No but like it’s four am… His punk ass knows he should.”  
  
“Maybe he’s with a girl. At her place.” Michael hopes it’s enough to reassure Ryan because he really wants to go back to sleep.  
  
“He’d call…. What if it was an accident?”  
  
“The police would call.” Michael groans, “Dude you partied at UF you didn’t come home. It’s the same.”  
  
“He’s not answering his phone.”  
  
“He’s with a girl.” Michael tries to grab Ryan’s phone away, “Dude have you met Devon? He’s okay.”  
  
“You don’t have a little brother man.” Ryan says concerned and serious and pissed off at the same time, “You don’t get it. I gotta like look after him. He’s not home.”  
  
 **London, 2012**  
  
Nothing happens though; Ryan’s hands stay limp and Michael stops talking because his chest feels too tight. Every once in awhile the inflatable mattress makes it look like Ryan’s moved and his hopes soar but when he looks again Ryan’s still absolutely still.  
  
Ryan’s mom slips back into the room and Michael lets go of one of his hands so she can hold it.  
  
“You should go back.” She tells him after an hour, “You need to sleep.”  
  
“I’m not leaving. I’ll go down to the-“  
  
“Ryan wouldn’t want you to miss races for him.” She insists, “Devon needs to go back too but he won’t go alone. We’re in the same hotel as your family, take him with you.”  
  
Michael looks at the clock and knows it’s too late to head back into the Athlete’s Village, he’s definitely missed curfew but can’t bring himself to worry about the repercussions.  
  
“If anything happens we call.” She reassures him before putting down Ryan’s hand and getting up, “I’ll let you say goodnight alone.”  
  
Not bye. Goodnight. It makes him feel better.


	3. Chapter 3

There are cameras outside the hospital and Michael tries to walk in front of Devon to shield him from them. He knows how angry Ryan had been at the press who had dug up dirt on his little brother when they hadn’t been able to find any on him.

Michael lets Devon get into the car first and he slams the door behind him and they’re both too busy looking down at their feet to avoid the camera flashes lighting up the darkness of the van to talk.

“I shouldn’t be going back.” Devon says quietly once they’re a block away, “I didn’t say bye, he doesn’t know-“ Panic rises in his voice and Michael sees Devon’s hand settle on the door handle.

“It’s been a rough day.” Michael tells him and it’s hard to believe that this is the same day that started with Ryan waking him up with Poptarts, “Ry knows you were there.”

“I have to go back.” Devon says again.

“I know dude.” Michael decides there’s no use in appeasing Devon when he feels the same way, “I didn’t want to leave either.”

“You have a race though-“

“Fuck the race.” Michael groans, “I’m tired of people telling me what Ryan would want me to do. Ryan tells me what he wants me to do all the time and I don’t fucking listen so I dunno why the one time he’s not bossing me around I have to listen to what he would say.”

“He bosses me around too.” Devon says. He sniffs and lets out a laugh. “But you gotta race bro. Ryan’s gonna be so pissed at you if you don’t.”

“Well maybe he’ll wake up to yell at me.” Michael reaches out to rub the back of Devon’s neck.

Devon falls asleep seconds later. Michael presses his forehead against the glass and tries to do the same but he can’t. He opens his phone and sees new text messages from his mom telling him he has his own room but that there’s an extra bed in hers if he doesn’t want to be alone.

He groans and rubs his face and can’t think of what’s worst; being alone in a room or going up to have his mom fuss over him. He thinks that if he’s expected to swim tomorrow he needs to start locking his feelings up in small spaces somewhere inside his head. He’s sure though that this time, locking up all his feelings isn’t going to help.

Michael expects more photographers to be waiting at the hotel but the sidewalk is empty.

“Dev, we’re here.” Michael shakes Devon’s shoulder to wake him up, “What’s your room number?”

“506.” Devon yawns, “D’you need a place to crash?”

“No, I’m-“ Michael looks back down at the text message, “Three doors down from you-“

“Yeah Ryan booked it. I told him to make sure there was like at least a room between us because I didn’t want to have to hear you guys-“

“Dude.” Michael rolls his eyes and slides out of the car, he holds the door wide open for Devon.

“Bro it’s true.” Devon gives him a look as he steps out, “I’m like scarred.”

“Go to bed.” Michael pushes his shoulder, “Punk.”

Devon walks with Michael to the front desk and waits while he gets his key and a handwritten note from his mom and a message from Bob telling him to be up for practice. Michael shoves the message from his mom in his pocket and crumples the one from Bob and tosses it in a trashcan.

Devon follows him to the elevator and Michael gets a distinct flashback of a sixteen-year-old Devon following Ryan around during a weekend Michael had spent in Gainesville. Ryan had stopped suddenly, Devon had bumped into him and Ryan had exasperatedly told his younger brother to find his own shadow.

Michael forgets to press a floor button and so they ride all the way up the last floor before Devon hits five.

Once they get to their floor, Devon stops in front of his door and doesn’t reach for his card key.

“Can I crash in your room?” Devon asks quietly, “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Aren’t you rooming with Brandon?”

“He’s with one of my sisters. The room’s empty and it has like…” Devon stares at the door, “All of Ryan’s extra stuff in it… I don’t wanna. I’ll sleep on the couch.” He offers.

“Um yeah.” Michael agrees, “Like get your stuff I’ll-“

“Wait.” Devon finishes for him, “It’ll take thirty seconds, just come in.”

Michael recognizes Ryan’s extra suitcase stashed in the corner as well as three more pairs of sneakers. Devon avoids that corner of the room entirely and heads for the bathroom.

Michael’s exhausted, he sits down on the desk chair to wait and his eyes fall on the five medal boxes stacked next to the phone.

“Ry left his medals with you?” Michael calls out.

“He’d started bringing some his things because he was done you know?” Devon walks out of the bathroom holding his toothbrush and goes to his suitcase. He pulls out pyjama pants, a t-shirt and socks. “I don’t know he doesn’t like having them around. Maybe we should bring one to the hospital so-“

Michael holds a hand up because he can’t think of bringing medals to a Ryan that’s not even awake. He’s still having trouble believing that the guy with half a shaved head and wires everywhere is the same person who’d won those medals.

“Sorry. I just thought that-“

“No it’s just he isn’t-“ Michael stops himself, remembering that Devon hadn’t seen Ryan. He wonders if in Devon’s head, Ryan looks the same; just asleep.

“Isn’t what?” Devon looks worried, “What aren’t you guys telling me?”

“You got your things?” Michael tries to avoid answering, “Let’s just go, I’m tired.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Devon insists.

“You know everything Dev, you just haven’t…” Michael tries to think over his word, “You haven’t seen him…”

“I can’t.”

“I get it. Let’s just go.”

*

Michael’s exhausted but he can’t sleep.

He thinks of the night before and how he hadn’t been able to sleep because Ryan had insisted on falling asleep in his tiny Athlete’s Village bed. Now all he wants is for Ryan to be in his bed, wrapped in all of their blankets and drooling on his chest.

Devon sleeps on the pull out couch with a pillow over his head and his cellphone in his hand. Michael’s tempted to wake him up and tell him to just take the bed but instead he just takes the phone out of Devon’s hand and lays it down beside him.

Ryan’s macbook is on the bedside table. Michael sits on the bed, props a pillow behind his back and presses the power button. He thinks of the continuous fight they’ve been having over where to live and how he’d promised a fucking comatose Ryan he’d move to Florida when he woke up. Michael holds his promises and he has full faith that Ryan won’t quit.

Ryan uses the same password for everything and so it’s not hard to log in to his account (or his email, or his voicemail). Michael fires up Safari and googles “Gainesville real estate.”

Devon talks in his sleep and it’s as unnerving as when Ryan does it, except that Michael’s trained himself to block out Ryan’s mindless middle of the night babbles about basketball and aliens and Blake Lively.

Devon’s words aren’t funny though and Michael thinks he might be crying in his sleep or crying for real and pretending to sleep. He stills and watches Devon for a minute debating waking him up for a second time. However, Devon quiets down after a bit and Michael returns his attention to his web search.

He finds a four-bedroom waterfront (he was unaware there was such a thing as waterfront propriety in Gainesville) home that’s minutes from the UF campus. It has a pool and a hot tub and definitely backs up on a swamp. Michael can imagine Ryan’s delight at finding gators frolicking in their backyard. Michael is fully aware of Ryan’s dedication to wrestling an alligator. He figures it’s probably safest if Ryan does it in the safety of their backyard. The thought of it makes Michael laugh so he bookmarks the page and copies the url to an email he’s sending out to whoever will go look at houses for him.

He falls asleep hoping that if it ever came down to it, Carter would protect Herman from a Gator.

*

“Wake up Michael.”

Of course Bob would have made sure to have a key to his room.

Michael groans and opens one eye; he’s fallen asleep with Ryan’s laptop still open, the charger is warm against his back and the corner of it has left an imprint on his hip. He sees Devon still sleeping on the couch and closes his eye again.

“No way, we have places to be you’re already late. Let’s go.”

Michael swears into his pillow and reaches around for his phone to figure out exactly what time it is, how late he is and to read whatever updates he has on Ryan.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Bob calls out.

Michael turns over to look at him and sees his cellphone in his coach’s hand.

“I need that.”

“No you don’t. If anything important happens I’ll tell you.”

“Fuck this shit. It’s my phone.”

“You’re late for practice.” Bob ignores his request, “Get out of bed.”

“I’m not going to practice. I don’t know how many more times I have to-“ Michael sits up and shoves the blankets off of him. “All my stuff is in my room at the village. I have-“

“Grevers has your things. It’s a team race Michael, you can’t let them down.”

“Fuck.” Michael runs both of his hands through his hair in frustration, “I know. I just…”

“Get to the pool and I’ll give you the morning update on Lochte.” Bob offers.

“There’s news about Ry?” Devon sits up and reaches for his phone, “I have nothing. What do you know?”

“Call your dad and find out.” Michael tells him, happy to have found the one loophole in Bob’s master plan.

“This is none of my business Lochte.” Bob turns to Devon, “But your parents are looking for you. Call your dad and head out.”

Devon gets out of bed so fast that his ankle gets caught in the sheet and he almost falls over. On any other day Michael would have laughed at him.

“Don’t worry.” Devon tells Michael, “I’ll call everyone once I have news and someone will tell you. You don’t need your phone bro but good luck. Kick ass. Do it for Ry.”

“Thank you Lochte.” Bob says and stares at Devon pointedly until he leaves the room.

*

Michael gets the morning update on Ryan as he heads out of the locker room.

“His oxygen levels are better.” Bob tells him, “If they keep improving they’ll take him off the respirator today.”

“Is he awake?” Michael asks because that seems like the most important thing.

“No.” Bob says, “That’s the same.”

“I read that like…” Michael swallows and says something he hadn’t wanted to say around Devon or anyone else, “If you don’t wake up like six hours after it’s not just a concussion but that your brain’s fucked.”

“I’m not a doctor Mike.”

“I can’t be here.” Michael stops dead in his track, “I…”

“It’s good news Mike. Ryan’s stable, his oxygen levels are improving, he’s not opening his eyes but he’s responding to-“

“Painful stimuli, I know. He’s withdrawing from it but he’s still not awake. You haven’t seen him, he doesn’t look like Ryan… It’s like just a body and.”

“Sit.” Bob drags him to a bench, “Take a breath, get it together then we’re getting in the pool.”

“No.” Michael says.

He’s acutely aware that all the eyes in the aquatic centre are on him. It isn’t the first time he’s felt this way but today it’s different. He wants to get as far away as he can as fast as possible.

“Getting in the pool will help, I know you feel like-“

“You don’t know how I fucking feel.”

“I don’t care how you fucking feel. Don’t you think you’ve gone through too much shit training to just blow it? Don’t you think the guys are counting on you? This isn’t an individual race Michael.”

“It’s not blowing it, Ryan’s in the-”

“Ryan would never let you use him as an excuse not to race. Get in the pool.”

Their voices carry through the echo of the pool and now everyone is definitely looking at him. Michael pounds his goggles down on the bench and hears them crack before he gets off and storms off like this is pre-Beijing except Ryan’s not there with his easy smile and a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

Instead it’s Nathan who puts a hand around his arm to stop him from punching a locker. Nathan’s dripping wet and he doesn’t try to hug him; in fact he doesn’t look half convinced that Michael won’t just punch him in the face for touching him.

“I know it’s tough with Ry.” Is all Nathan says.

He sits on the bench and waits for Michael to sit next to him and then doesn’t say anything else. Nathan doesn’t touch him or even move in closer; he just sits there.

“The IOC is being an asshole.” Nathan says minutes later, “Or they just really never forgave Ryan for the grill thing in Beijing. We wanted to wear his cap in the relay but they won’t let us.”

“Fuckers.” Michael agrees.

“You wear two caps right?”

“Yeah.”

“We looked all over last night… We tried to go see Ry but they said it was just family and we weren’t allowed out… We had to get your swim stuff out of your room so we figured it wasn’t a huge deal to go through Ryan’s bag but half his stuff was already gone.” Nathan explains.

Michael watches him walk to his locker, open it and pull a swim cap out of it. Nathan hands it to him; It’s Ryan’s.

“It’s the only one we could find, the IOC won’t let you wear it instead of yours but you can wear it under… Like we get if you can’t swim but you should because-“

“Ryan would want me to.” Michael cuts him off.

“No.” Nathan shakes his head. “Because the guys swam hard to beat the French team in heats and we need to show them up again even if they didn’t make finals.”

*

Bob keeps his phone and Michael gets no updates. He spends his day wondering if the IOC would really disqualify him in his last Olympic race for wearing Ryan’s cap. He tries it out in practice and no one notices but someone stops him right before he steps into the ready room and he’s too tired to fight them.

He puts his own cap over Ryan’s and tries to avoid looking at the crowd but he spots his family with the sign he’d been so embarrassed about when he’d first learned about it. He thinks of Ryan’s t-shirt and tugs on his goggles to get his mind off of it. He doesn’t let himself imagine what it would have been like if Ryan had been there.

He’s grateful for his family and his teammates but winning his last medal without Ryan there to see it is hard and by the time he’s on the podium he can’t hold back his tears.

*

This wasn’t how Michael had planned to celebrate his first night of retirement. Ryan and him had made insane plans for a joint retirement/birthday party that included using the hotel room Michael now shared with Devon to make up for the sex they hadn’t had in the past few months.

Michael gets to the hospital with no real plans of ever leaving: no flight to get back home and no press commitments to fulfil. His phone battery is dead so he can’t text Devon to let him know he’s on his way but he gets off the elevator on the floor of the waiting room instead of the ICU.

Devon is pacing the hallway by the elevator and muttering to himself. A nurse passes by, stops to stare at him concerned for a second before walking away. Michael grabs Devon by the arm and drags him back into the waiting room.

“That nurse probably thinks you escaped the psych floor,” He gently pushes Devon down into one of the uncomfortable looking blue chairs, “dude what’s up?”

Devon blinks at him slowly and the look on his face is so Ryan that Michael feels his stomach tighten. He sits on a chair in front of him and waits; he wonders how Devon always manages to end up alone.

Michael knows from experience that Devon worries about all of the things Ryan never thinks twice about.

He gives him a few minutes to get his thoughts together. The room is filled with even more flowers than before and a dozen balloons float up to the ceiling in the far left corner. There’s a longer list of phone number and names on the whiteboard and discarded boxes of take out food. There’s a half eaten cake right by him.

“Who brought cake?” Michael decides to start with an easier question.

“Ry’s birthday,” Devon finally speaks. “At the club, we had a cake for like us at the restaurant and they brought it to the hotel and the hotel just sent it here and it’s fucked. The nurses have been eating it.”

“He’s going to be pissed he missed it.” Michael says. He pushes the box away from them and waits a few more seconds.

“I can’t read your mind Dev.” He says, “Talk.”

“The doctors came to talk to us.” Devon is angry, “About all their fucking worst case scenario bullshit.”

“What were they?” Michael tries not to sound worried.

“How he could be when he wakes up, like he might not be the same… Like be really angry or not remember anything or just different. Like maybe he’d have trouble doing stuff or walking…” Devon punches the table, gets up and starts pacing again.

He’s quiet for a few seconds before he stops in front of Michael’s chair and keeps talking “If his brain’s damaged they can’t tell but his oxygen levels were low so maybe there was tissue damage. He could get pneumonia and die or have seizures. All they had was bad news dude, like they never said that he could wake up tonight and go home it’s fucking bullshit, Ryan’s going to be Ryan. He can’t stay here dude, we gotta get him back. They don’t get it.”

“Ry’s hurt bad Dev.” Michael says quietly.

“I fucking know that okay. We’re in a fucking hospital.” Devon snaps.

“Where’s your fam?” Michael grabs Devon’s arm again to stop him from pacing, “Dude stop.”

“Still with the doctors. I had to get out.”

“Who’s with Ryan?”

“Me.” Devon looks guilty.

“Come on.” Michael gets up and drags Devon along with him.

“I can’t.” Devon tugs back hard, “Stop it.”

Michael stops and lets go of Devon’s wrist. He grabs him by the shoulders instead.

“Look.” He says, “I just swam two fucking races I didn’t give a shit about because everyone told me it’s what Ryan would have wanted.”

“Good for you, whatever.” Devon growls at him, still trying to struggle out of his grip.

“You can’t even work up the guts to go sit next to him? That’s fucked.”

“I can’t.” Devon says, “Like I just… I tried you know. I don’t wanna see him all-“

“He needs you.” Michael implores.

“Don’t.” Devon seems to deflate, “I’m here. Just not in there.”

“If it was you.” Michael knows he’s going for a low blow, “Dev, if it was you up there they’d have to get security to drag Ryan out. He’d have punched out any doctor who’d said you wouldn’t wake up.”

“I know okay.” Devon concedes, “I’m not Ryan.”

“I’ll go in with you.” Michael reminds him, “Come on.”

“I..” Devon hangs his head and wipes at his eyes.

“Once you see him.” Michael puts a hand around his shoulder and walks with him,  
“You’ll feel better. ”

Devon doesn’t put up a fight but Michael feels that if he lets go of him Devon won’t keep walking on his on. The elevator and the hallway leading up to the ICU are empty, they closer they get to the locked door, the more Devon starts walking on his own, like he’s finally determined to do this.

He’s the one who buzzes the intercom.

“Hey it’s Devon Lochte for my… for Ryan Loch-“ His voice shakes but the door buzzes open before he finishes.

“He’s the third room to the left.” Michael doesn’t let go of Devon. “He has his own nurse… Is he breathing on his own? I forgot to-“

Devon nods and stops short, staring straight ahead at the nurses’ station.

“Dude.” Michael sighs, “It’s ok. It’s just Ryan. Come on.”

Without the ventilator, Ryan looks more approachable but Devon hovers in the doorway his eyes fixed on the beeping monitors and the IV’s.

“Hey babe.” Michael grabs Ryan’s hand, “Sorry you got left hanging out on your own.”

He studies Ryan’s face, the bruising is definitely more intense but someone’s put chapstick on his lips and there’s fresh gauze over the staples on his scalp.  
“Dev’s here.” He tells him.

Devon takes one small step into the room and his eyes briefly settle on Ryan before focusing on Michael.

“There’s a chair.” Michael points, “Sit down.”

Devon obeys but he keeps his hands on his lap.

“You can hold his hand.” Michael offers, like he’s giving Devon a step-by-step lesson on how to behave in the ICU.

“That’s kind of gay.”

“So’s your brother.”

Devon laughs and it relaxes him. He doesn’t take Ryan’s hand but puts one of his on Ryan’s shoulder and squeezes.

“Nice nightgown Ry.” Devon whispers, “I think grandma has the same one.”


	4. Chapter 4

  
Three days after the accident, Ryan is still in a coma.  
  
Michael sits by his bed and absentmindedly counts Ryan’s breaths like he counts his own strokes while swimming. It’s reassuring, like Ryan’s fighting to get back with every breath the same way he fights to get to the wall.  
  
The doctors give them the worst case scenarios because they have to. Michael sits next to one of Ryan’s sisters while they talk about Ryan not waking up, Ryan with brain damage, Ryan with memory loss, Ryan with psychological trauma, Ryan having to learn to walk again. After ten minutes of it, Michael suddenly understands why Devon had been pacing the hallway the night before. Once the doctor pulls out Ryan’s MRI and starts talking about how long his brain had gone without oxygen Michael feels like he needs to punch someone in the face.  
  
Like Devon said; no one talks about Ryan waking up, making a joke and walking straight out of the hospital to go home. The doctor’s cautionary best case scenario involves months of rehab, frustration and an uncertain future.  
  
It leaves them all feeling numb.  
  
There are stories about Ryan in every tabloid and newspaper. They try to avoid them but people leave papers lying on hospital cafeteria chairs and they’re scattered on the counter of the hotel lobby. One gets left at the door of Michael’s hotel room in the morning and he grabs it and throws it out before Devon can see it.  
  
Not that Devon’s been back to the hotel because they can’t get him to leave. He’s the permanent occupant of the second chair by Ryan’s bed and stubbornly refuses to go away.  
  
“He moved his hand.” Devon’s voice is tired but he sits straight up in his chair, “Dude his hand moved.”  
  
“It’s the bed.” Michael says, “If his hand’s like on the mattress when it inflates it-“  
  
“Yo it wasn’t the mattress.” Devon snaps, “His hand fucking moved. On it’s own.”  
  
“Dev.” Michael keeps his voice calm, “I’m not trying to-“  
  
“He moved his hand.” Devon insists, “I saw it.”  
  
“Okay.” Michael tries to appease him.  
  
“You don’t believe me.”  
  
“Dev… I” Michael takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose, “I want him to wake up too. They said he might twitch and that it doesn’t mean… We shouldn’t.”  
  
“You all just believe what those asshole say.” Devon takes Ryan’s hand in both of his and strokes the skin pulled tight by the tape holding his IVs in. “About him not waking up and dy-“  
  
“Don’t be an asshole.” Michael growls.  
  
Devon doesn’t say anything back. He continues to stroke the back of Ryan’s hand and Michael can see his lips move, whispering things he can’t hear over the beep of the heart monitor.  
  
“Your dad’s trying to move him back home.” Michael says, “They’re sending all his test results and everything back to-“  
  
“I know.” Devon looks up from Ryan annoyed.  
  
“Fuck dude just go sleep… You’re acting like-“  
  
“I’m not leaving. Ry needs someone here who knows he’ll be the same and you’re all just here waiting to pull the plug on-“  
  
“There’s no fucking plug to pull Dev.” Michael groans, “Ry’s breathing on his own and he has brain activity. His brain’s hurt, it needs to heal enough and then he’ll… Fuck you for saying I’m waiting for him to die dude. Fuck you.”  
  
“I didn’t-“  
  
“You did.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“You need to get the fuck out and go sleep.”  
  
“I don’t wanna go.” Devon says, “He moved his hand.”  
  
“Okay.” Michael reaches across Ryan’s bed and squeezes his arm, “Just like sleep here, if he moves again I’ll wake you up.”  
  
Devon falls asleep with his head resting on the edge of Ryan’s bed, close to his brother’s chest. Once Devon’s hands go slack, he drops Ryan’s and Ryan’s hand comes to rest touching Devon’s shoulder.  
  
Michael stares at him hard for a few more minutes, willing him to move again, hoping to catch what Devon had seen.  
  
His phone vibrates in his pocket and it breaks him out of his trance. There are a dozen reminders for press interviews, meetings and appointments and he dismisses them all. He’s bowed out of every press commitment he’d made because smiling through GMA interviews is the last thing he wants to do. Outside the hospital walls, the Olympics are still going on but all that matters right now is Ryan.  
  
*  
  
Ryan doesn’t get any worst but for the first few days he doesn’t get any better.  
  
Days blur together because Michael leaves the hospital in the middle of the day and comes back after the sun’s set. Sometimes the camera flashes of the paparazzi that continuously haunt the hotel and the hospital are the only moments he sees that resemble daylight.  
  
They talk to Ryan, hold his hands and rub his legs. They rest their heads close to his and fall asleep until nurses come in to take Ryan’s vitals. They read the news to him and his favourite children’s book and entire ESPN articles. Devon gives him a play by play review of the USA basketball games.  
  
Sometimes Michael falls asleep on the uncomfortable couch in the waiting room and someone covers him up in a blanket.  
  
On the sixth day, Ryan starts to mumble and talk but he doesn’t answer questions and he doesn’t make any sense. Instead of attending the USA Swimming party like they’d originally planned, Michael spends one more evening in the ICU. He relieves Ryan’s mom who decides to go back to the hotel to shower and eat with Devon and Brandon.  
  
“Yo Ry,” Michael knocks on the glass door as he walks in and squeezes Ryan’s leg before sitting down.  
  
“The party was tonight bro, you’re missing it. The nurses already ate your birthday cake babe.”  
  
They’ve been planning this night for months. They were supposed to celebrate Ryan’s birthday, their medals, and Michael’s retirement. Ryan had been threatening to kiss him outside the club in front of everyone.  
  
It was supposed to be their first time being together as a couple in public.  
  
Michael knows Ryan’s had his suit picked out for weeks, months probably. Ryan had spent way more time than someone who’s training for the Olympics should on fabric swatches and phone calls to his stylist. The suit was now hanging in a garment in the closet of Michael’s hotel room.  
  
Ryan had insisted on keeping the suit a surprise and Michael still hadn’t peeked.  
  
 _“Don’t fucking sneak a peek or none of that shit. It’s a fucking surprise okay, I want to like, blow your mind.” Ryan mimicks his own head exploding as he hangs the suit up.  
  
They’ve just been shown to their room and while Michael’s chosen to lie back on his bed to nap Ryan has already started unpacking.  
  
One minute Ryan’s walking around the small room putting t-shirts in drawers and the next time Michael looks up, Ryan’s naked examining the suit.  
  
“Blow my mind with a suit?” Michael laughs because Ryan walking around their room butt ass naked is pretty mind blowing on its own.  
  
“I know, it’s hard to think it gets better than this.” Ryan strikes a ridiculous pose and checks himself out in the mirror while he flexes. “You know, maybe I’ll try and stay in fighting shape after London.”  
  
“You won’t.” Michael yawns and readjusts himself under the covers, “You like beer too much.”  
  
“What the fuck ever,” Ryan turns to face Michael’s bed and starts jacking himself off. “ I’ll be training. You’re the one who’s gonna be retired and playing GTA all day. Fuck you’re going to break all my high scores and just- you better have dinner ready when I get home.”  
  
“ So you’re moving in with me?” Michael motions for Ryan to come closer to his bed.  
  
“No fucking way. You can take the boy out of Florida but you can’t take the weather out of Florida and bring it to Baltimore and make it sunny.” It only takes three steps to cross the room and Ryan stands right next to Michael’s bed.  
  
“That made no sense dumbass.” Michael reaches up to cup one of his hands around Ryan’s side. He lets it fall and squeezes Ryan’s ass.  
  
“Fuck you.” Ryan tilts his head “Now are you going to do something or am I getting dressed? You’re losing your game Phelps.” _  
  
Ryan moans and then mumbles out a string of indiscernible words.  
  
“I’m here babe.” Michael tells Ryan, “It’s okay.”  
  
He strokes the side of Ryan’s face and brushes his thumb against Ryan’s lips, like he does on Saturday mornings when he wakes up first. Ryan’s eyes don’t flutter open and he doesn’t make any more noise.  
  
“So I did something kinda stupid.” Michael admits to him, he grabs Ryan’s hand “I found this like house the other day in Gainesville.”  
  
“It’s like… waterfront to a swamp, not like a beach but there’s gators that come out.” He squeezes Ryan’s hand, “Anyways, the people selling it were kind of desperate to get it out of their hand and um… it’s ours.” He announces.  
  
Ryan doesn’t move or speak or open his eyes or do anything and Michael’s suddenly just sad. Alone with him in his room, he bows his head and takes a few deep breaths. He swallows around the lump in his throat and tries hard not to cry.  
  
All he wants to do is to take Ryan home.  
  
*  
  
Ryan’s doctors in London refuse to clear him to be med-evacuated to the United States and so they’re forced to wait in London.  
  
Michael’s mom and his sisters fly home as well as one of Ryan’s sisters who brings Brandon back to Florida with her husband and her kid. Devon moves all his things and all of Ryan’s things into the hotel room they now officially share.  
  
People send flowers, food, phone messages, emails and tweets. There’s so many that they can’t possibly answer them all so generic statements are made to the public and more detailed mass emails are sent out to family and friends.  
  
Devon spends hours calling Ryan’s friends to keep them up to date. On days when they both end up back at the hotel at the same time Michael usually wakes up to see Devon sitting up in his bed his face lit by the screen of Ryan’s macbook.  
  
On one of those nights, nine days after the accident, Devon notices that he’s awake.  
  
“I didn’t wanna wake you up man.” He apologizes, “I just have to… Kyle was online and he had my dog on skype.”  
  
“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep.” Michael sits up and turns on the lamp beside him, “What time is it?”  
  
“Like 3 am.”  
  
“Did you not sleep at all?”  
  
Devon shakes his head and grabs the tv remote, “There’s like drama with the asshole who punched Ry… Fucker’s still in London.” He flicks on the television and surfs until he finds a news channel.  
  
They wait for the day’s stories to cycle around, Devon goes back to answering emails and Michael answers text messages.  
  
“American swimmer Ryan Lochte-“ The newscaster says and their attention goes back to the television.  
  
“Was the victim of a vicious attack eight days ago and remains in critical but stable condition at a London area hospital.”  
  
The news story goes on to show a fight outside a nightclub and describe how even though he’s been disqualified and had charges pressed against him, the man refuses to leave London.  
  
“If the American swimmer succumbs to his injuries, the charges would be changed from assault to mu-“  
  
Devon shuts off the television before the newscaster can finish her sentence.  
  
“I want to bash his head against the sidewalk until his brains fall out.” Devon says.  
  
“ I want to punch his face in too man.” Michael admits “But like… it won’t help Ryan. We can go find him and bring the whole swim team with us to chase him down some back alley but like Ryan will still be in the same spot.”  
  
“But we’ll feel better and the fucker will get what he deserves.” Devon shuts down the macbook and rubs both of his hands over his face, “Because Ryan doesn’t deserve any of this.”  
  
“I need to be with Ry.” Michael admits.  
  
Michael’s been trying to be the strong one and to have an answer to every single one of Devon’s doubts but faced with a news report that Ryan could die, he has no answer and he can’t pretend that everything is okay.  
  
It’s raining hard outside and the paparazzi have left. Michael feels like he’s in a daze and this time Devon’s the one that guides him out of the hotel and into the cab by the sleeve of his sweater.  
  
At the hospital, they go straight up to the ICU, buzz to be let in and a nurse tells them that the ICU is currently closed to visitors.  
  
They go down to the waiting room to wait and find  
  
When they finally allow visitors back into the ICU, daylight is breaking and Devon is dead asleep on the floor of the waiting room. Michael decides to leave him there because Devon hasn’t slept in days. He covers Devon with a blanket and leaves a quickly scribbled note by his hand.  
  
There’s a newly empty bed a few doors away from Ryan’s room. The reporter’s voice echoes around in Michael’s head _If the swimmer succumbs to his injuries…_  
  
He shakes his head, hoping to get the voice out.  
  
Ryan’s more restless and it’s hard to watch him because he definitely doesn’t sound or look peaceful. His hand recoils from Michael’s when he reaches to hold it. The heart rate monitor beeps faster; wherever Ryan is he’s not having a good time. The hundreds of pounds that had lifted off Michael’s chest when Ryan had first started to make noises and move a few days ago settle back against Michael’s chest.  
  
“It’s ok Ry. You’re safe, relax.” Michael says, he wants to hold him but rubs his shoulders instead. It seems to calm Ryan down, like it usually does the night before a race he stresses about.  
  
“Nothing’s going to hurt you. I’m here babe.” He whispers it because Ryan’s nurse is standing right outside the glass door and as grateful as he is for everything she’s doing, he still feels uncomfortable talking to Ryan in front of her.  
  
The hand Ryan had jerked away from him lays awkwardly; Michael lays it back across Ryan’s chest and sees a flash of blue eyes.  
  
“Ry?” His eyes are closed again, “I saw that dude, open them again.”  
  
“Come on Ryan.” Michael inches his chair closer to the bed and waits. He moves his hand to stroke Ryan’s face carefully avoiding the bruises and the stitches. He traces Ryan’s jaw line with his fingers and tries again “Wake up Ry, come on babe.”  
  
Ryan turns his head towards Michael’s touch but his eyes don’t open again.  
  
“Yeah babe.” Michael’s heart feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest, “Good job Ry. You’re in the hospital but it’s okay.”  
  
Ryan groans when Michael moves his hand away from his face to hold his hand.  
  
“It’s okay.” Michael repeats, he brings his other hand up to keep stroking Ryan’s face, “You don’t have to open your eyes but squeeze my hand Ry? Please”  
  
And Ryan does.  
  
“Fuck.” Michael blinks back tears “Open your eyes Ry, you can do it. Come on baby.” It’s the same words Michael uses to cheer Ryan on during relays but he feels like Ryan’s probably been fighting harder for this than any race they’ve ever swam together.  
  
  
“You already did it babe.” Michael squeezes Ryan’s hand back and waits. “Just open your eyes and you can go home.”  
  
The back of Michael’s fingers stroke Ryan’s jaw and Ryan opens his mouth and licks his lips. Slowly, Ryan’s eyes flicker back open, he squints at the light above his bed and Michael automatically shields Ryan’s eyes.  
  
“Hey.” Michael says softly.  
  
“No.” Ryan’s voice is rough but he squeezes Michael’s hand again.  
  
“No?” Michael strokes Ryan’s fingers with his thumb, “You’re okay Ry.”  
  
“Mom.” Ryan closes his eyes again.  
  
“No Ryan.” Michael’s own voice is choked “I can get your mom. You’re staying with me okay?” He reaches for the call button on the railing of Ryan’s bed and pushes it. The nurse takes no time to come in.  
  
“Is he awake?”  
  
“Yes… He was... He closed his eyes and…” Michael instinctively backs away from Ryan’s bed.  
  
“Ryan!” She says loudly “Can you open your eyes”  
  
Ryan’s eyes flutter open for a second.  
  
“No love,” She snaps her fingers in front of his face “Stay with us Ryan, open your eyes. Do you know where you are?”  
  
“Stop” Ryan whines but he squeezes Michael’s hand again.  
  
“Can you tell me your name? What’s your name love?”  
  
“Hurts.” Ryan turns his face away from the light.  
  
“You’re going to have to leave.” The nurse commands Michael, “We need access to-“  
  
“Is he okay?” Michael doesn’t let go of Ryan’s hand “What hurts?”  
  
“We have it under control, step aside.”  
  
“No.” Ryan’s voice sounds a little more intent, a little less far off. “Stay.”  
  
“You have to leave.” The nurse repeats, she has a hand on Ryan’s shoulder “I’m sorry but you have to-“  
  
“He wants me to stay.” Michael tries to argue.  
  
“If he’s in pain I need to help him and I can’t do that if you’re here. I really don’t want to call security, please.” She pleads with him.  
  
Ryan’s fingers are still holding onto Michael’s but he pulls away because this is the nurse who’d put lip balm on Ryan’s lips all those days.  
  
“I’ll come back Ry.” He tells him.  
  
*  
Devon is sitting on the floor in front of the ICU door, he stands up when Michael walks out.  
  
“He woke up for our mom.” Devon says, “Before we got here but then someone else in ICU… That old guy with the… Anyways he died and they made everyone leave. My dad left a message for us at the hotel but we never checked and-“  
  
“Yeah.” Michael slides down next to Devon, “He was awake but-“  
  
“You didn’t come to get me?”  
  
“Dude it was like.” Michael brings his knees up to his chest and cradles his head in his arms, “He squeezes my hand and he opened his eyes and then he asked for your mom and said he was in pain and they kicked me out. I didn’t have time.”  
  
“He’s hurt?”  
  
“Yeah.” Micheal leans his head against Devon’s shoulder. He squeezes his eyes shut tight trying not to cry.  
  
“It’s okay dude.” Devon says quietly. He puts an arm around Michael and leans his head on top of his. “There’s doctors and his nurses are awesome and shit dude.” Devon pulls Michael in closer, “Ry’s okay.”  
  
The hallway is empty and Michael’s able to swallow his sobs but tears still run down his cheeks. Devon doesn’t let him go and he doesn’t move his head.  
  
“Ry’s okay Mike.” He repeats. “He’s awake and we’re gonna go home and everything’s good dude. Everything’s good.”


	5. Chapter 5

“We don't measure recovery in days.” 

All of Ryan's family is in the waiting room listening to Ryan's neurologist talk. They've been waiting for hours with no news and with only Ryan's parents being allowed in the ICU. 

“We're looking at weeks and months and maybe years.” She clears her throat and continues, “It's normal for him to be disoriented, to be scared – The panic from this morning is normal and once he calmed down we were able to get him resting comfortably. He knows where he is and who he is and his memory does not seem to have been affected.” 

Michael fidgets. He bends a piece of paper over and over and over again while he listens. He tries hard to forget how Ryan had panicked and tried to get up and ripped out his own IV. How Ryan's dad had had to grab Ryan's wrist and pin them down against the mattress to keep him from hurting himself more. 

He tries to forget that when Ryan's eyes had locked with his, Ryan had just looked scared. 

“Can we see him?” Devon asks impatiently. His eyes are red and his hands are balled in the sleeves of his hoodie. “I just want to talk to him. Like tell him it's okay. If he's freaking out he shouldn't like be alone in there.” 

“Yes, but it's important to keep your visits short. Mr. Lochte-” 

“Ryan.” Devon corrects. 

“Ryan is confused and agitated. He'll be slow to answer and react. He does have sensory complications from his concussion. He's having trouble focussing his eyes and experiencing light sensitivity. These side effects should dissipate over time but our neuro-ophthalmologist will be running tests later on today.” 

She smiles at them reassuringly but it doesn't make Michael feel any better. It's early afternoon and Devon and him have been at the hospital waiting around for twelve hours. Michael feels numb and can't bother to listen to the questions Ryan's parents are asking. He leans his head forward and rubs his eyes. He cranes his neck and tries to accept that this is reality. That Ryan won't just get up out of bed and walk out of the hospital tomorrow. 

He thinks of the house he's just bought and how maybe Ryan won't be able to live in it for months. 

“Once we're sure he's medically stable.” The doctor answers and it gets Michael's attention, “We will move him out of the ICU to the rehab floor. Then when we can examine the option of transferring him to America.”

“Can we see him?” Devon repeats. 

“If the ICU is open for visitors. Yes.” She flips through Ryan's chart once again and gets up, “Once we have more tests results and the report from the ophthalmologist, I will come see you again. If all goes well he should be moved to the rehab floor tomorrow evening.” 

She walks out to a chorus of thank yous but no one moves. Devon slumps in his chair and Michael nudges his knee with his own. Devon nudges back then draws his knees up against his chest and leans his forehead down on them. Michael reaches over to rub Devon's back. 

The reality of the situation is sobering. They'd all been waiting for Ryan to wake up, it had been their beacon of hope for days. Now though it was becoming obvious that it was just the first checkpoint of a very long race. Ryan wasn't Ryan and Michael couldn't imagine anything worst. 

“Ryan loves all of you.” Steven says gruffly,“More than he cares about himself. You.” He points to Devon, “Look like hell. Ryan can't be worrying about you now. I need you to go and sleep and you can come back tomorrow.”

“That's fucking bull-” Devon snaps his head up to look at his father, he doesn't bother wiping tears away. 

“It wasn't a suggestion.” Steven uses a tone of voice Michael's never heard but that Ryan imitates constantly. “You're not doing Ryan any favors by wearing yourself down.” 

Devon wipes at his eyes with the back of his hands but doesn't answer back. 

“Now.” Steven clears his throat, “Ry's stubborn and he's tough and if he doesn't remember that we'll have to do it for him. We're going to keep fighting until he walks out of here.” 

“I'm seeing Ry before I leave.” Devon speaks up, “I'm not going back if-” 

“You can see him.” His mother soothes, “You can go in now. I'll go with you.” 

“No.” Devon shakes his head, “I wanna go alone.” 

*  
Michael walks up to the ICU with Devon and remembers how he'd had to physically push him forward a few days before. 

“We're gonna get him home.” Michael says, unsure if it's meant to comfort Devon or to make himself believe it. 

“You gotta, you bought a house.” Devon says, “Dude he's gonna be so stoked he won that fight.” 

“It wasn't a fight.” Michael tries to explain. 

“Dude.” Devon laughs and it's the first time Michael's heard him laugh in a week, “When you talk to Ryan on the phone there's a 95 percent chance I'm sitting next to him. I know like everything.” 

“Do you think you can get your dad to let you stay?” Michael asks while they wait for the elevator. 

“No.” Devon shakes his head, “Once he makes up his mind like that, you just follow. Unless you're Ryan and then you do the exact opposite. Like he sounds mean but he just cares. This must be killing him, we had to drive Ry to the hospital after a concussion once and our dad was fucking flipping out driving 'cause Ry couldn't remember anything. Like he cares a lot, it just... He shows it different.” 

“I'll go back with you.” Michael offers, he keeps the door open for someone walking out of the elevator with an IV pole before stepping into the elevator. “We'll bring back food.” 

“Ry might want you to stay.” Devon shrugs, “Like you're being a good brother but he needs you more.” 

“Thanks man.” Michael's taken aback by Devon's compliment. 

“What?” Devon holds the elevator door for him, he doesn't seem to understand the weight behind his last statement “Dude you guys seriously better get married or whatever.”

“We'll see.” Michael says quickly because Ryan and him have never really talked about it.

“You bought him a house MP.” Devon laughs, “You comin' in?” 

“No. I'll wait, you should go see him alone.” 

Michael waits for Devon in the hallway of the ICU near the nurses station. He leans his head against the wall and tries to put himself out of the way as much as possible. 

“He's been asking for you.” The same nurse from Ryan's first night tells him as she erases the names of the attending physicians on the whiteboard.

“How is he?” Michael asks. In the days they've been here Michael's learned that the nurses are often better sources of information; they're the ones taking care of Ryan all day long. 

“More aware of where he is and of what's going on.” She explains, “We're keeping his room dark to make sure he's comfortable. He gets irritated with too many questions. He doesn't want to be alone. His vitals are strong, he was aggitated right before but he's calmed down now that his brother's with him. He'll sleep through the night comfortably.” 

“Thank you.” It makes Michael feel better. He can see Devon's back through the glass windows and Ryan's legs which keep moving. Devon turns around and waves him in. 

“He wants you.” Devon explains, hanging halfway out of the room blinking at the lighting difference. 

Gainesville, 2009 

“So like.” Ryan reaches for another pillow and props it up behind his head, “I hooked up with this dude last night.” 

“I was there.” Michael rolls his eyes.“He was pretty hot.” 

Ryan smacks Michael's side with the back of his hand but keeps running the back of his fingers along Michael's ribs to his stomach absentmindedly while he talks. 

“I think a ton of people we know saw us making out.” Ryan sighs, “Could get awkward.” 

“You were pretty drunk.”

“Not that drunk.” Ryan corrects, “I knew what I was doing.” 

“Don't flatter yourself.” Michael laughs but if he closes his eyes he can still see Ryan straddling him and feel Ryan's lips against his. Ryan had definitely known what he was doing. 

Michael grabs Ryan's hand and intertwines their fingers together.

“Handholding's kinda gay.” Ryan points out but doesn't move to take his hand away. 

“So's letting me fuck you.” 

Ryan moves so his chin is resting on Michael's chest, he grins up at him. “You liked it too much to make fun of me right now.” He drops his voice to a lower octave and adopts an exaggerated lisp, “Fuck Ryan, you feel so good Ryan... Jesus Ryan-” 

“Shut up.” Michael punches his shoulder. “Like you were quiet.” 

“Anyways.” Ryan punches Michael back, “Like I was saying. I hooked up with this dude last night.” 

“I didn't know you were into dudes.” Michael plays along. 

“Dunno.” Ryan shrugs, “He's kinda like my best friend but I like him so it could get weird.” 

“You're too hot for it to get weird.” Michael smooths a hand down tanned skin of Ryan's back. 

“That makes no sense.” Ryan says, “You are not helping.” 

Ryan lays his head down on Michael's chest and drapes one arm over his stomach. Despite his protests, he seems satisfied by Michael's answer. He's quiet long enough that Michael drifts back to sleep, stroking Ryan's hair. 

“If we're together I might miss boobs.” Ryan shoots off seriously, “Like really.”

“Dude.” Michael groans, “If you're not gonna let me go back to sleep... At least go make me breakfast.” 

“We're out of cereal.” Ryan yawns, “I don't know where the toaster is. I hate cooking.” 

*

“Mike?” Devon repeats, “Ry wants you.” He stops Michael be the sleeve of his shirt before he walks into the room. “ His like throat hurts. He's super tired, he's kinda out of it.” He warns. 

There are no windows in Ryan's room and the lights have been shut off. It takes Michael a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. With the light from the hallway he's able to see that Ryan is sitting up, that there's bandages on the hand that had had his IV's and that all the tubes are now sticking out of his other hand. Devon's at Ryan's side with one hand on his brother's shoulder, he looks more serious and concerned than Michael's ever seen. 

Ryan doesn't smile when he sees Michael but holds out his hand. His face is still bruised and half his head is still shaved. His eyes are focused on a spot in thin air but he quickly unfocusses them and his head drops. 

“Hey Ry.” Michael clasps the offered hand and holds it close to his chest. 

“Hey.” Ryan's voice is hoarse. He squeezes Michael's hand and closes his eyes. 

“You're okay babe.” Michael says.

“Don't go.” Ryan says. 

“Your dad's making-” Michael starts to explain that Devon has to go because Devon looks beat and Michael knows he won't leave on his own. 

“...I say stay.” Ryan argues. He opens his eyes and squints at the small amount of light coming in from the hallway. 

Michael protectively covers Ryan's eyes and Ryan relaxes against his pillow. He leans sideways to get closer to Michael. 

“You can sleep Ry. I'm not gonna leave.” Michael says quietly, he keeps his hand over Ryan's eyes and Ryan stops frowning.

“I'll stay too Ry.” Devon jumps in a few seconds after Michael had forgotten he was there. 

“No.” Ryan blindly reaches up with his other hand and pats Devon's arm, “Here all the time. Go sleep.” 

Devon leans his head down to rest against Ryan's shoulder and Ryan leans his head against Devon's. 

“'M'ok DC.” Ryan tells his Devon, “S'ok.” 

When Devon doesn't move his head Ryan reaches up to pat Devon's shoulder and reaches to rub the back of his neck. His moves are clumsy and Michael can see that he's wincing again. Devon isn't moving though.

“Dev, it's okay and like I got him Ry.” Michael offers to Ryan, “ I'm looking after him.” 

“Yeah. He is” Devon lifts his head up and laughs, he wipes at his face again. “Sorry I'm like super tired.” 

“Go.” Ryan keeps a grip on Devon's shirt. 

“I'll be back later.” Devon says and his voice is steadier than it's been in days, “I'll bring you clothes... That nightgown's not good.”

Once Devon's out of the room, Ryan closes his eyes and reaches for Michael's hand again. He doesn't keep talking and a few minutes later he's sleeping with his head resting against Michael's arm and his own arm thrown over his eyes. 

When Michael trades places with Ryan's sister, Ryan is still sleeping.


	6. I'm okay.

The final paperwork for the house gets couriered to the hotel in London four days after Ryan wakes up. Michael still hasn't told Ryan about the house and he's sworn Devon to secrecy. He doesn't want to put too much pressure on Ryan, doesn't want Ryan to think that his life is on hold until he gets better.

It takes Michael way longer than it should to sign his name next to the post it tabs stuck throughout the document. He taps the end of the pen on the edge of the desk and stares out the hotel window at rainy London. He hasn't been at the hospital since morning when he'd traded places with Devon.

Ryan's dad has made colour coded time tables to ensure someone is always with Ryan. They're printed on a Daytona Speed pool schedule and Michael's name is in green written under the crossed out “Boys-Gold” sections. Devon's name is scribbled next to someone else's so he's never at the hospital alone. Michael and Devon haven't had a hospital shift together in a day and after being attached at the hip with the kid for the past week being without him is odd. Michael doesn't really know what to do.

Michael flips back a few pages and circles the closing date with the end of the pen, embossing the shape on the paper. It's three months away and a part of him wants to imagine a healthy Ryan walking into the kitchen that's big enough for both their families to come hang out. Another part of him, a part Michael tries to keep quiet, says that in three months Ryan might not even be ready to go home.

Ryan struggles. His temper is short, he has trouble concentrating and he can't stand lights. He doesn't like looking weak and he doesn't like feeling weak. Ryan's frustrated and sometimes he seems to forget where he is and how he got there. The worst part for Michael is that when they're alone together, Ryan just looks scared.

“It's okay Ry.” Michael soothes over and over again because he doesn't know what else to say to make him feel better. Ryan has times when he doesn't want to be touched because there are doctors, nurses and physio therapists touching him all day long so Michael keeps his hands off the bed until Ryan reaches for him.

They've moved Ryan to the rehab floor where he has a bigger room and no IV's. He wears sunglasses indoors to hide the fact that his eyes don't focus and to protect them from light. Ryan's balance is totally off; he's not allowed to stand without assistance and most days that's the cause of his bad moods. He hates being dependent on others and Michael tries to make Ryan feel like he isn't.  
Ryan's phone rings from Michael's bedside table and makes him jump. He drops the pen, flips the document back to the first page and shoves it back into the envelope. He tries not to think about what he's just bought. He doesn't answer Ryan's phone; he'd plugged it in to charge out of habit because Ryan always forgot. He'd seen the phone on the desk three days ago and done it without a second thought and as soon as it had enough charge to turn on it had started to ring and hadn't really stopped.

He'd brought the phone to Ryan the day before but Ryan had shoved it away angrily when he hadn't been able to get his eyes to focus on the screen.

“Cullen.” Devon had said scrolling through the messages for him. “He wants to know if he can come-”

“Put the phone away.” Ryan had mumbled.

Ryan had just come back from physio and the room had been too bright and they'd pushed him there and back in a wheelchair.

Ryan hadn't wanted to talk or be touched and when his dad had tried to give him a speech about how he was feeling sorry for himself and that never got anyone anywhere, Ryan had kicked him out. Then he'd kicked Devon out.

“Ry.” Michael had tried to warn after a few minutes of silence, “Dude your dad was just-”

“Don't.” Ryan's voice had been small and choked. Michael had never heard him sound like that.

“Okay.” Michael had agreed not wanting to be the third casualty of Ryan's bad mood.

He'd taken Ryan's phone off the bed and dropped it in his pocket, flicking it back to vibrate. He slouched back in the chair and propped his feet up on the side of Ryan's mattress.

“Don't look at me like that.” Ryan groaned.

“Like what I'm-” Michael tried to keep his calm, it was getting harder to not give Ryan the same speech as Steven. After spending more than two weeks with Devon, Michael felt like hitting Ryan for the look on Devon's face when Ryan had told him to leave.

“Like I'm sick, it's fuckin' old.”

Michael had almost told him about the house then. To prove that he had faith things would get better but Ryan had closed his eyes and reached for Michael's hand before falling asleep.

Back in the hotel room Michael stretches and yawns. He's not due back at the hospital until after diner. He dials his attorney and leaves a message saying the papers are signed before he falls back on the bed and closes his eyes.

Michael sleeps for an hour before his phone rings, he instinctively reaches to press snooze and groans when he sees Devon's name.

“Mmm?” He answers because he's still too sleepy to form words.

“You gotta come,” Devon says, “Ry had a seizure.”

“What?!” Michael cries out. He kicks off the blankets and grabs his keys and his wallet off the bedside table.

“He's okay,” Devon reassures, “He's like awake but they're moving him to ICU or some other place. He's awake... They just don't know why. He's in an MRI now.”

“He's okay?” Michael breathes out.

“He's awake, he didn't like hurt himself... Like I don't know it happened super fast he was already...” Devon's voice falters.

“A seizure that's like his brain though right... I thought they'd-” Michael grabs shorts and a hoodie. He doesn't bother looking in a mirror before he slips on his shoes and heads out the door.

“Yeah. His brain.” Devon says quietly. He had sounded so reassuring a few minutes ago and now he seemed to be doubting his earlier optimism.

“Fuck.” Michael bangs his fist against the wall while he waits for the elevator, “Did the doctors like-”

“We're waiting... Our dad went down to the MRI with Ry cause he was flippin' out. Mom's already on her way... I called her first. ”

“I'm on my way.” Michael says. He presses hard on the down button willing the elevator to get there. “Tell him that if you see him.”

Michael's alone in the elevator and in the car. He slumps down in his seat and nervously slides the unlock arrow on his iPhone again and again without inputting the password. His battery is half dead and he can't process anything. Can't think of what he'll say to Ryan or how he'll make him feel better. They're suppose to be there to fight for Ryan and there's no excuse to give up. Michael doesn't feel like giving up but the unfairness of the situation is overwhelming.

Ryan's not back in the ICU but he's on another floor with all the IV's put back in and all the monitors stuck back on. Everyone is crowding the room and Ryan's not saying anything or complaining about being stuck in bed and being touched.

Ryan's head is turned to the side towards his mom and she strokes his face while keeping one hand over his eyes.

“There was nothing on the MRI.” Devon tells Michael when Michael sits next to him on the windowsill. “They say it happens sometimes after your brain gets fucked. They make you really tired though so he's like sleeping.”

“I'm awake.” Ryan shoots off from the bed, “I'm ok.”

**Gainesville 2010**

“I'm ok” Ryan yells as soon as he stops skidding down the sidewalk.

Devon rolls his eyes at him and picks up his own skateboard. He flicks one wheel with his thumb.

“You can't grind rails for shit you couldn't even ollie up.” Devon shouts back.

“Yeah you try it dumbass. I totally did make it up.”

“Shit dude.” Michael stands up from his spot on the edge of the sidewalk at the bottom of the stairs Ryan had been trying to jump, “You're bleeding.”

Ryan looks down at the ground perplexed and then bends his elbow to look at the gash that's spewing blood.

“Oh shit.” Devon cries out, “That's so much fucking-”

“Don't be a pussy.” Ryan warns his brother, “Look away before you fucking pass out Devonette.”

“That looks deep Ry.” Michael walks closer careful not to step in the drops of blood staining the concrete.

“It's fine. I'm okay.” Ryan grabs the edge of his t-shirt, pulls it over his head before pressing it against his cut up arm, “Yo let's bounce... Dev's not gonna try to hit this rail. Grab my board.”

Ryan insists on driving back even though blood's running down his arm and dripping off his fingers by the time they're halfway home.

“I'm ok.” Ryan glances sideways quickly to meet Michael's eyes, “Stop worrying.”  
“Yo dad's gonna kill you.” Devon says, “If you gotta get stitches and you're out-”

“Yo dad's not gonna know.” Ryan reaches back to punch Devon with his good hand. He lets go of the wheel to do so.

“Holy shit man fuck.” Michael grabs on to the wheel to keep them all alive, “Watch it.”

“Chill out.” Ryan rolls his eyes and grabs back onto the steering wheel, “We weren't going anywhere.”

Once they're home, Ryan's white t-shirt is heavily blood stained but he still rolls his eyes at any expressions of concern. He keeps pressure on it while he digs through the mostly empty drawers of his kitchen.

“DEV.” He yells out, “Where's the super glue at?”

“Why the fuck do you need super glue dude.” Michael groans, he tries to remember how much blood a person can lose before they pass the fuck out.

“I'm gonna fix my arm.” Ryan says matter of fact. “Duh.”

*

They can't fix this with super glue. Ryan keeps reassuring them that he's fine, that he doesn't need painkillers for the muscles he strained while seizing and that his head doesn't hurt even though he throws up when a well meaning intern flips on the lights.

Ryan's calmer and he lets his mom stroke his face until he falls asleep and no one else tries to get close to his bed. Once Ryan's been asleep for a few hours a nurse reassures them that Ryan will sleep through the night; that his brain needs to calm down from the seizure. It's Michael's turn to spend the night and by 8 he's alone in the room watching Ryan sleep.

He tries going through his emails to keep busy, deleting reminders for meetings he's cancelled. He puts the ones about the house in another folder and finds himself looking through the pictures of the house – their house again.

The sound of Ryan's heart monitor is mesmerizing though and he shuts off his phone, kicks his shoes off, balls up one of Devon's forgotten sweaters into a pillow and lies back on the plastic couch.

“Mike?”

“Yeah?” Michael wakes up on the way too small couch and is automatically confused about what time of day it is. The window is Ryan's room is covered so no sunlight can come through. He sits up and stretches out his neck, “I'm here Ry.”

“It's dark. I couldn't see you.” Ryan says. He sounds like he's been awake for awhile.

“I fell sleep I'm sorry. Want me to turn the light on?” Michael asks. He rolls his shoulders back and stretches out his arms before moving to sit on Ryan's bed.

“No. Just talk.” Ryan shifts to the side to give Michael more room.

Michael flicks on his phone, keeping the screen away from Ryan's face. “It's the middle of the night babe.” He says, “You gotta sleep.”

“I can't sleep.” Ryan groans, he pulls himself up on his elbows.

“I can get the nurse to give you a sleeping pill.” Michael offers, “Your brain needs to like

“I don't want one, just talk to me.” Ryan reaches blindly to hold onto Michael's knee.

Michael puts his hand over Ryan's and moves closer to him on the bed. He fumbles with the bed controls and moves Ryan up until he's sitting. Ryan's lost weight in the past weeks, he hasn't shaved and the light coming from the hallway makes the circles under Ryan's eyes look worse.

It's the closest they've been in weeks. Michael sits cross legged on Ryan's bed and lets Ryan drape one leg across his lap. He takes Ryan's IV free hand in both of his and strokes it with the back of his fingers.

Ryan's the one who talks first, “I just want to get the fuck out of here.”

“You will dude.” Michael wants to hold him but the bed seems too narrow. He reaches forward and pulls Ryan into a hug. Ryan leans his head against Michael's shoulder.

“Doesn't feel like it. Fuck, it's so dark.” Ryan sounds scared again, “I'm so fucking messed up.”

“It's ok Ry.” Michael comforts. He can hear to heart monitor pick up and he reaches up to stroke the back of Ryan's neck. He wishes he had something better to say. that he knew a way to make Ryan feel more like Ryan again. Instead he runs his fingers through Ryan's hair, “You're not fucked up, I love you.”

“I want to go home fuck. I wanna see Carter and sleep with you.” Ryan's voice hitches.

“Ry, you will dude.” Michael holds him tighter, “We'll go home.”

He holds Ryan for awhile and Ryan holds him back, clinging closer than he has since their last night together in the Olympic village. Ryan's skin is cold so Michael reaches for Devon's hoodie and puts it around Ryan's shoulders because he's too afraid of disconnecting an IV or a wire to help Ryan put it on properly.

“Can you open the light?” Ryan asks panicked, “I can't deal-” He presses his face against Michael's shoulder.

“It's ok babe, watch your eyes.” Michael knows it's not the darkness in the room Ryan wants to get rid of but he obeys anyways. He keeps one hand on the back of Ryan's neck, trying to protect his eyes against the light. He doesn't let go of the pull chord though and he pulls it again quickly when Ryan flinches in pain.

“Shit, no turn them off fuck.” Ryan cries out. He pulls back from Michael to lean against his pillows. He digs the palms of his hands against his eyes “I can't do it.”

“I'm here.” Michael tries to pull Ryan back towards him but Ryan won't budge.

“I can't fucking deal dude.” Ryan says from behind his hands, “When everything's this dark it just reminds me of somewhere I don't wanna fucking be.”

“You're safe dude like... You were always safe.” Michael tries to explain, “I pulled you out as soon as someone said they couldn't see you and no one's gonna let you quit. You're not gonna be alone... We got you dude.”

“I don't like the dark.” Ryan insists, “Like I don't remember a ton but it felt like I was under and I couldn't make my way back. It was dark and I was stuck.”

“You're not stuck.” Michael reminds him.

“I kinda am.” Ryan lets out a laugh but it sounds bitter and discouraged and Michael has not idea how to answer.

It takes a few minutes before Ryan takes a breath and uncovers his eyes. Michael sees him blink a few times before he hangs his head. The heart monitor has almost gone back to it's normal rhythm.

“Take my phone.” Michael reaches into his pocket and pulls out his iPhone. He dims the brightness and hands it to Ryan. “You can use it as a flashlight.”

“Thanks.” Ryan puts the phone down beside him, he settles back against his pillows. “That helps.”

“Go to sleep Ry.” Michael suggests again.

Ryan shines the light on Michael's face, “talk to me until I fall asleep.”

“What about?”

“Goin' home.” Ryan scoots to one side of the bed and pulls Michael down next to him settling close against his side.

“I bought a house.” Michael admits; he runs his fingers through Ryan's hair. “For like us...”

“Where?” Ryan yawns, “It's too cold in Baltimore.”

“Gainesville.” Michael admits, “I think it backs up on a swamp.”

“Are there gators?”

“We'll have to see I didn't ask.”

“Take me home now.” Ryan's eyes are closed again, “Like just out and to the airport and home. I'll be ok.”

“I want you to come home too Ry.” Michael says and he kisses Ryan to try and make it more normal. So they can both forget for a second where they are.

“I want to go to the beach.” Ryan's voice is softer, “bring the dogs… bonfire.”

“We'll get a house on the beach then.” Michael offers, “So like you can keep your surfboard at the back and just go.”

He runs his fingers right below the scar on Ryan's scalp, the one he tries to forget about. He thinks about sitting on the back deck of a beach house drinking coffee while Ryan surfs off in the distance. He sees the dogs waiting for Ryan on the beach and tracking sand all over the house.

“They told my dad I might not like surf or swim.” Ryan admits and he sounds scared again.

Michael's not sure how Ryan knows this because it's definitely not a conversation they've ever had around him. The one time a doctor had said those words in a meeting away from Ryan's room, Steven had gotten so angry he'd walked out.

“Who the fuck cares what they say.” Michael forces himself to keep running his fingers close to the scar so Ryan knows that he's not pretending everything's okay, “You don't give up dude. I don't either.”

Ryan shines the iPhone's light on Michael's face again, “If I sign myself out will you take me home?”

It's not the first time Ryan's threatened to do this, he'd done it earlier when the doctor had refused to let him get out of bed.

“You can't babe.” Michael turns the screen of the phone off and lays it back on Ryan's chest, “Try to sleep.”

“Keep talking.”

“You're gonna surf.”

“Are you gonna surf?”

“I don't know.”

“You're gonna surf.” Ryan turns his head to kiss Michael's wrist, “I'll teach you. Dev'll help” Ryan yawns.

“Sleep Ry, I'm not going anywhere.”


	7. If you want out... This is it.

  
Michael waits until he’s sure Ryan is asleep before he moves from the bed. He carefully pulls his arm from around Ryan's shoulders and settles himself into the chair right next to Ryan's bed. He doesn't move back to the couch because he can't touch Ryan from there. He keeps one of his hands close to Ryan's so that if Ryan moves his just slightly he'll be able to touch him. He doesn't want to wake Ryan up.  
  
Michael falls asleep with his head resting on Ryan’s bed. At some point during the night Ryan starts to stroke Michael's hair and his hand stays resting against Michael’s head. Just as Michael's waking up the next morning it feels like home. There’s a cell phone ringing and for a few seconds he’s in Baltimore cursing whoever’s texting Ryan (it’s always Ryan’s phone) so early in the morning.  
  
Michael opens his eyes, hears the heart monitor, sees the gray-blue hospital blanket and remembers where he is. He feels his pockets and then his hoodie for his phone; it’s not there though. His cell phone is still in Ryan’s hand and he carefully pries it away.  
  
The battery is almost dead. It’s painful to think how many times Ryan had to turn the screen on and off in order to drain it that fast. Michael doesn’t want to think of how long Ryan spent awake in the dark too stubborn and proud to wake him up.  
  
Michael answers as soon as he gets the phone out of Ryan’s grip but doesn’t speak until he’s out of the room.The hallway is bright and it's definitely already morning. The difference in lighting is almost painful and he digs his thumb and his forefinger into the corners of his eyes.  
  
  
“Hi.” He half yawns the word as he stretches out.  
  
“Your flight leaves in two hours, where are you?” It’s Peter.  
  
“At the hospital, I’m not going anywhere.” Michael looks at his watch and knows he still has an hour before someone comes to take over for him.  
  
“It’s for charity. It's the only thing you didn't cancel and you're missing your-”  
  
“No.” Michael stops him, “I cancelled everything.”  
  
“No.” Peter argues back, “You didn’t cancel this.”   
  
“I can sign things, my Olympic jacket, my car, I don’t care.” Michael interrupts and peaks back into Ryan's bedroom; Ryan's still asleep.  
  
“It’s your charity Mike. You’re talking. You have to be there.”  
  
“Where is it?” He usually has things written down or set up in his calendar but now the only schedule he remembers is the one for Ryan.  
  
“New York, tomorrow night.”  
  
“No way.” Michael can hardly think of leaving the hospital. Going back home feels like betrayal.  
  
“I can’t cancel.”  
  
“People would get it, like-”  
  
“No.” Peter says firmly, “They wouldn't.”  
  
“But Ryan.” Michael says defeated, “He's not-” Michael doesn't want to be told he can't be with Ryan ever again. “I can’t go home without him.”  
  
“You’ll be back day after tomorrow. There’s really no way of backing out Mike. I can’t book someone else to speak at your- We booked you on the first flight back out but you’re going to miss your flight-”  
  
Michael stops listening. He remembers this trip.  
  
“ _So two weeks after London-“ Michael holds out his phone to let Ryan look at the calendar.  
  
“What about Laguna Beach?” Ryan tips his laptop screen, open to a random real estate listing page, so Michael can see it.  
  
“I have this charity thing, like a dinner they want me to talk.”  
  
“Maybe not Laguna- Like I just want somewhere warm?”  
  
“By that time we’ll be out… So I was thinking.”  
  
“Where would I train in Laguna?”  
  
“Are you even listening to me Ry?”  
  
“Are you even listening to me?”  
  
“We’re not moving to Laguna beach.”  
  
“Oh shit, you win I have no fucking idea what you were talking ‘bout.” Ryan admits  
  
“I was asking you out on a date.”  
  
“Right now?” Ryan looks at him like he’s crazy, “Like I’m not wearing clothes. We’re in bed, we have practice tomorrow.”  
  
“No, after London dumbass.” Michael kicks Ryan’s leg before repeating, “I have a charity dinner. They want me talk, do you want to come with me?”  
  
“I dunno, I might be busy.” Ryan shrugs, “That’s a fucking long time away.”  
  
“Are you serious?”_  
  
 _“You called me a dumbass so whatever.”_  
  
 _“I’m sorry Ry.” Michael groans and reaches over to kiss Ryan, “Can you check? This is important.”  
  
“Dude,” Ryan puts a hand over Michael’s face and pushes him away, “I don’t run my own schedule. Erica tells me where to go and I just do it.”  
  
“Can you call her and ask?”_  
  
 _“You call her and ask. She yells at me.”_  
  
 _“It’s like right after London, when you’ll be flying off everywhere and it’s two days in New York.”_  
  
 _“Yeah but I might not be in New York, like maybe I’ll be in LA.”_  
  
 _“Or maybe you can make sure to be in New York.” Michael is getting frustrated, “Why are you making this so hard?”_  
  
 _“What are we doing in New York?” Ryan abandons the idea of Laguna Beach and closes his laptop._  
  
 _“I’m giving a speech. It’s a dinner. I want you there as my date.” Michael keeps his sentences short._  
  
 _“Like our first time out?”_  
  
 _“Yeah, like it’s low key but if you don’t want to-”_  
  
 _“Dude, I’ll go to your prom. Screw Erica’s schedule she took my twitter away.”  
  
“It’s not my prom Ryan.” Michael groans again but he lets Ryan kiss him anyways.  
  
“Now I know it’s a lot of pressure but I expect to get laid.”  
  
“Maybe I don’t put out.” Michael rolls his eyes at Ryan’s demand. _  
  
_Ryan laughs to himself at Michael’s answer and he kisses him again. His macbook gets pushed off his lap as he pulls Michael in closer. A few minutes later once Michael’s on top of him they both hear it fall off the bed and hit the floor._  
  
“Michael?” Peter says exasperated, “Are you even listening to me?”   
  
“I want my family there.” Michael suddenly demands.   
  
“I don’t even know if your family can-“  
  
“I don’t care, I’m not going to this thing alone and I’m not answering questions, I’m not talking about Ryan. That’s off the table.”  
  
“I’ll try to get your family to come but Mike, you needed to be in the car downstairs two minutes ago.”  
  
“Yeah well two more minutes, I have to say bye to Ry.”  
  
“I’m calling you back in three, you better be on your way down. You can’t miss this flight.”  
  
“I have to tell Ryan I’m leaving,” The low battery alert goes off “My phone’s almost dead. I’ll try to make it but if Ryan doesn’t want me to leave like I can’t. He’s more important.”  
  
Michael hangs up before Peter has a chance to argue back.  
  
*  
  
Ryan’s already awake when Michael walks back into his room.  
  
“You leavin’?” Ryan asks. He shields his eyes from the light that’s coming through the blinds.  
  
“Yeah babe.” Michael sits down on the bed he rubs one of Ryan’s legs  
  
“Coming back?” Ryan turns his head away from the window and closes his eyes.  
  
“I have to go for a bit dude.” Michael laces his fingers through Ryan’s and the plastic heart monitor clip scrapes against the back of his hand.  
  
“Hot date?” Ryan doesn’t smile but it’s the first joke he’s made since before the accident.  
  
“The charity thing, in New York.”  
  
“How long?” Ryan braves the light and opens his eyes to look at him.  
  
“Two days, I don’t have a choice.”  
  
“Come back jeah?” Ryan strokes Michael’s knuckles with his thumb. “Don’t like leave.”   
  
Ryan’s voice is the sad sort of quiet again and it hurts to hear.   
  
“I won’t go if you want me to stay.” Michael tells him.  
  
“No.” Ryan says frustrated, “Just like… This isn’t fun and I’m all fucked up. Like I get it if this isn’t-”  
  
Michael suddenly understands because Ryan’s never really had to talk in full sentences for him to get it. He’s never heard Ryan sound so insecure and he wants to do whatever he can to make sure Ryan never sounds like this again.   
  
“I’m not going to dump you. Come on Ry.” Michael says and he tries not to feel offended.   
  
Ryan doesn’t answer but he squeezes Michael’s hand and nods.   
  
This is what worries Michael, not Ryan’s eyes or Ryan’s balance problems but Ryan’s mood swings. Ryan’s lost his confidence and his easy smile and those Michael figures don’t have a medical cure.   
  
Ryan and him have had fights, the bad kind where they hadn’t talked for weeks until one of them had given in and apologized. There were days when Ryan pulled out his skateboard out of his suitcase or threw all of the clothes Michael had left on the floor of their room into the shower and Michael had wanted to kill him. Days when he had hated the ease with which Ryan seemed to accomplish everything he tried to do. During all those times though Michael had never wanted to break up with him, had never thought his life would be better without Ryan. Maybe he’d been too lazy but until Ryan had been carried out in a stretcher he’d never imagined his life without Ryan in it.   
  
“I’ll get better.” Ryan promises, “We’ll go home.”   
  
Ryan winces when he stops to talk and brings his free hand to press against one of his temples. He drops his head against his chest and closes his eyes.   
  
“Go back to sleep Ry.”   
  
Michael tries to untwine his hand from Ryan’s but Ryan grips it tighter.   
  
“I’m okay.” Ryan says. “Kiss me.”   
  
It’s more of a demand than a request but it’s more confidence than Ryan’s shown in days so Michael obliges.   
  
Michael inches up further on the bed until he’s awkwardly jammed between Ryan’s hips and the bed railing.  Michael leans down to kiss him and Ryan pulls him in closer, throwing one arm around Michael’s shoulders.  Michael can feel the wires resting against his back but ignores them. He rubs the back of Ryan’s neck before pulling apart.   
  
“I’ll be back after tomorrow.” Michael tells him.   
  
“Wish I could still go.” Ryan mutters half against Michael’s mouth before kissing him again. “This place blows.”  
  
“New York gonna suck without you.” Michael pulls away and leans his head on Ryan’s shoulder.  
  
“When you come back you can take me home.” Ryan says again and he sounds a little more like Ryan, “I’ll talk them into it.”  
  
“We have no furniture.” Michael tells him.   
  
“I have furniture.” Ryan says thinking of his house and his dog and it all seems so far away from where he currently is.   
  
Ryan winces again and he brings Michael’s hand up to rest against his eyes.   
  
“I fucking love you Ry.” Michael says quietly.  
  
“I know.” Ryan answers without opening his eyes.  “Bring me back pizza.”  
  
Michael sits on Ryan’s bed until Ryan’s grip on his wrist loosens and he figures Ryan’s almost back asleep. When Ryan doesn’t notice that he’s off the bed Michael walks out of his room. On his way out of the hotel he uses the last of his battery life to text Devon to show up earlier.   
  
*  
  
In the car, Michael realizes that his wallet, his passport and his phone charger are all in his hotel room. By the time he makes it to the airport, they’re holding the flight for him. By the time he gets on the plane he’s pretty sure everyone on it hates him, he’s probably made a few people miss their connecting flights. He wants to hide.  
  
There’s another car waiting for him at the airport and surprisingly no press. His mom and Hillary are already waiting for him when he gets to the hotel, sitting in the living room of the suite. He drops his bag on the bed of one of the bedrooms and sees two tuxes hanging from the bathroom door.  
  
“I didn’t know what to do with Ryan’s.” Hillary explains, “I didn’t know if I should just… hide it or-“  
  
She walks into the room and stands between him and the two garment bags, like she’s shielding him from their presence.   
  
“It’s ok.” Michael says, “I figured it was going to be here I never cancelled.”  
  
“I looked at them to figure out which was yours. There were cufflinks.” She hands him a small box, “They have Jeah engraved on them and diamonds. Ryan’s.”  
  
“I know,” Michael blushes as he flips the box open, “I had them made for him… They’re a surprise.”  
  
“You had Jeah cufflinks made for him? You’re so whipped.” His sister laughs.  
  
“I’m regretting this already,” Michael groans, “I should have come alone.”  
  
“Don’t even say it,” Hillary sits down on the bed, “We were pretty much kidnapped you know?”  
  
“Yeah sorry. I made it a condition. I should have called mom.” Michael yawns as he talks; he really wants to nap but knows he should call for an update on Ryan first. He tries to mentally calculate the time difference   
  
“Mom was coming anyways, she’s worried about you. You look like hell, did you run out of razors over there?”  
  
“Wow thanks.” Michael rubs a hand against his face, “I don’t really… I’m with Ry most of the time I haven’t been-“  
  
“How’s he doing?” She asks concerned, “We get the emails but they’re really vague.”   
  
“Better but it’s harsh. He has trouble with his eyes like with light and looking at things. If he concentrates too hard he gets migraines. He had a seizure a few nights ago that set him back.”   
  
“How’s Ryan though?” She asks again, “Like him… not his eyes.”   
  
It’s a question Michael really doesn’t want to answer so he just shrugs.   
  
“You have to talk to someone about it Mike.” Hillary nudges his knee with her foot.  
  
Michael wants to say that he does talk about it. That he talks about it with Devon but he knows he doesn’t really. Devon and him feed each other all the positive observations they can scrape together. They don’t share their concerns. Michael doesn’t tell Devon when Ryan wakes up scared in the middle of the night and he’s sure Devon keeps things from him too.   
  
“Angry.” It’s the first word that comes to Michael’s mind and he realizes that it’s an adjective he’s never used to describe Ryan before, “He’s kind of like discouraged… He’s scared. He won’t say it but I like know.”   
  
Hillary nods but doesn’t say anything she nudges his knee with her foot again and it’s all Michael needs. Michael’s exhausted and as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s nice to be away from the hospital. It’s nice because he knows his mom wouldn’t let him get away with silence.   
  
They both stay quiet for a bit and Michael starts to think of how long he can stay in his room before his mom starts to worry. He lies back down on the bed and closes his eyes. He wants to turn off all the lights and sleep and not wake up until the next morning. He wants Ryan to be there, wants Ryan to be opening up the garment bags and inspecting both their tuxes. He wants to surprise Ryan with the cufflinks. He wants Ryan to be better.   
  
“I’m sorry Ryan can’t be here.” Hillary offers.  
  
“Yeah,” Michael tightens his hand around the cufflinks box, “Me too.”  
  
“And I’m really sorry Mom and I had to see the rose petals on the bed in the master bedroom.”  
  
“You’re lying.” Michael opens one of his eyes to look at her, “I didn’t ask for that.”   
  
“There’s a case of mountain dew in there too… What you do with your boyfriend is your business but like mom knows now so-“   
  
“It’s Ryan.” Michael groans. He turns over and buries his face against the comforter. “He thinks shit like this is funny.”  
  
“I’m finding out stuff I never wanted to know. Are there any other surprises in here we should-“   
  
“There’s flowers too right?” Michael asks blushing  
  
Hillary nods  
  
“He sends me flowers all the time when he’s in Florida and he puts Lil Wayne lyrics on the card, it’s so lame.”  
  
“It’s not lame, he loves you.” Hillary waits until Michael looks at her to finish, “You love him.”  
  
“He’s really hot.” Michael excuses and smiles, it feels good to talk about Ryan like everything’s normal.  
  
“So if he sends you flowers, what do you send him?”  
  
Michael grins and holds up the cufflink box, “Dude loves his bling.”  
  
“This was your trip?”  
  
“Yeah,” Michael grabs a pillow and props it behind his head, “It was like Ryan’s first break and like it was gonna be the first time our scheduled matched up. We had it planned for a while. It was our first like… time being out. We weren’t gonna make a huge deal but I could kiss him if I wanted to you know? We’d never done that before.”  
  
“Wait, am I on Ryan Lochte’s honeymoon? Did you bring mom on your-“  
  
“Stop.” Michael reaches out to hit her and misses, “It’s not.”   
  
But in a way it was and he tries to forget all the things Ryan and him had planned to do. How stupid nervous he’d felt writing his speech knowing Ryan would be listening to it because Ryan could pull a speech out of his head on his way to a microphone and deliver it dead pan. He tries to not think about how different discovering the flowers and the petals would have been with just Ryan.   
  
“It’s not fair that he isn’t here.” Hillary says in a tone Michael always hated growing up because it was usually the one she used to boss him around, “But you’ll have more trips together. Ryan’s not going to quit.”   
  
Michael doesn’t answer because it’s too much to be there without Ryan. He closes his eyes again and the next time he opens them his room is dark and someone’s covered him with a blanket. He kicks off his shoes, crawls up under the covers and goes back to sleep.   
  
*  
  
Michael’s phone vibrates in his pocket while he’s making his speech. He’s talking about dedication, the importance of sports, self esteem and really… he forgets what he says as soon as the words leave his mouth. All he can think about as he gets closer to the end of his speech are the three missed calls. He tries to make eye contact with Hillary hoping that if there’s something wrong she’s getting messages too. All she does is smile at him; it doesn’t help.  
  
He runs out of paper to read and the crowd claps and he almost feels bad that he can’t remember a word he’s just said.  
  
“What were you trying to say to me?” Hillary asks once he’s sitting back down next to her, “Like, I could feel your brain waves but my telepathic skills aren’t-“  
  
“I wanted you to check your phone.”  
  
“Why?” She takes it out of her clutch and shows him the blank screen, “No one’s called me.”  
  
“I have three missed calls, no voicemail.”  
  
“Do you know the number?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“If it was something bad, they would have left a message.” She pats his arm, “You said Ryan was doing good, I’m sure he’s still okay.”  
  
“I’m going to try calling back,” He looks around their table and sees people hovering looking for a moment to pounce in, “cover for me.”   
  
It takes him awhile to escape the room; people keep stopping him to shake his hand, to congratulate him, to ask if he’s brought his medals, and to ask about Ryan. His phone goes off three more times while he’s explaining to a woman who won’t let go of his hand that no he’s really not planning on returning for Rio but that he’ll definitely be involved in swimming in some other way-  
  
His phone vibrates one more time.  
  
“I’m sorry,” He tells her, “I have to go and-“ His phone keeps vibrating, whoever is on the other end is not hanging up and he doesn’t even bother finishing his sentence before leaving her standing alone in the middle of the room.  
  
It’s a text message, from the same number:  
  
“Wat u wearung”  
  
He has a pretty good idea who sent the message. He hits the call button.  
  
“Jeah? Finally.” Ryan answers, “It’s hard to text you my eyes can’t focus on the screen it’s too bright. Took forever.”  
  
“Who’s phone are you on?” Michael says relieved, he looks at his watch and calculates the time difference to London, “Dude, you should be sleeping.”  
  
“My dad’s, I stole it from his pocket while he was leaving.” Ryan sounds proud of himself, “My motor skills are fine, the physio lady can go fu-”  
  
“Your phone’s in my hotel room Ry, just ask Dev to bring it. You don’t need to steal from your family dude I’m sure someone would have given you a phone.”  
  
“Speak slower.” Ryan asks. “I can’t like-“  
  
“Your phone is in my hotel room.” Michael turns his back to the room,  “Ask Devon for it. Stealing is bad.”  
  
“I don’t want my phone.” In his hospital room Ryan sits up straighter in bed, “I just wanted to talk to you.”  
  
“How was your day Ry?” Michael looks around trying to find a private spot, because he hates thinking of someone listening in on this conversation.  
  
“I got mad they wouldn’t let me walk around.” Ryan admits, “I said I was signing myself out.”  
  
“Dude, no.”  
  
“I just get so mad I dunno.”  
  
“Who’s with you tonight?”   
  
Michael knows he’s not getting the full story, that Ryan won’t tell him everything that’s going on because Ryan won’t want to sound weak or sick.  
  
“I was a pretty big jerk, I made everyone leave. My dad yelled.”  
  
“You took his phone.”   
  
“He doesn’t know.” Ryan yawns, “DC might still be around, he doesn’t leave.”   
  
“Go to sleep Ry.”  
  
“Keep talking?” Ryan asks because even though he’d asked everyone to leave it feels bad being alone. “If you’re busy it’s-”  
  
Michael looks around and there’s definitely still people hovering at a polite distance waiting for him to hang up, every once in awhile a camera flash goes off.  
  
“I’m not doing anything.” He says quickly because Ryan has to know he’s more important, “What do you want to hear?”  
  
“New York.” Ryan flicks the phone on speaker and puts it on his chest hiding the lit up screen, “Goin’ home.”  
  
“Your flowers made it.” Michael laughs, “Thanks.”   
  
“Yeah? You earned those.” Ryan goes quiet, “I had other surprises.”   
  
“Me too.” Michael admits, “This sucks without you.”   
  
“This blows without you too.” Ryan answers, “I’m gonna sign myself out and fly back home. I can’t stay here.”  
  
“Ry you can’t.” Michael says and he desperately hopes Devon is still hanging around somewhere close to Ryan’s room. “They’re helping you.”   
  
“Don’t feel like it.”  Ryan lets out a bitter laugh, “I just want to walk dude like I can. They can’t tell me-“   
  
“Chill.” Michael says and it comes out harsher than he means to, “We’ll figure it out. Your family’s trying to figure it out… Everyone’s on your side Ry no one wants you there forever it’s-“   
  
“I just find it really hard to care y’know. About shit. I wanna go home.” Ryan’s tone is flat, “I’m tired of everyone fucking…”  
  
“Dude, your family loves you… Don’t be too harsh on them.”  
  
“Tell them not to be harsh on me bro. I don’t want to fucking do physical therapy. I’m not five, my dad can’t tell me what to do.”   
  
“They’re trying to help.”  
  
“I know.” Ryan admits, “Whatever just-“   
  
“Do you want a pool in our backyard?” Michael asks to change the subject.   
  
“What?”   
  
“A pool in our backyard. Do you want one?”   
  
“Yeah.” Ryan answers, “Like a good one. A slide or something.”   
  
“Ok.” Michael agrees, “We should get a pool table.”  
  
“You suck at pool.” Ryan reminds him, “I feel bad every time I play you.”  
  
“You really don’t.”   
  
“Maybe you’ll get better.” Ryan reasons, “Then we can play for real. I won’t have to go easy on-”  
  
“Nice trash talk.” Michael laughs.   
  
Ryan doesn’t laugh back. He’s quiet for a bit and Michael stays quiet too. Michael can hear Ryan breathing and the sheets rustling and the faint noise of the nurses walking around just outside Ryan’s room. On his end he can hear someone else giving a speech and the soft buzz of the crowd. There are people laughing a few feet away from him. He doesn’t feel part of it.   
  
“My head hurts.” Ryan complains after awhile, “You keep talking.”   
  
Ryan stops answering but Michael keeps talking. After a few minutes of talking idly about backyards, televisions in the bedrooms and maybe finding old arcade games somewhere he stops and waits for the small noise of protest Ryan had made the last time he’d stopped talking. When he doesn’t hear anything he hangs up.  
  
He tries to call Devon but Devon doesn’t answer his phone, he leaves a message and drops his phone in his pocket. That’s when the people move in.  
  
*  
  
Devon calls back hours later, just as Michael’s getting back to his room and changing out of his suit.   
  
“Hey.” Devon sounds exhausted, “I just checked my phone.”   
  
Michael suddenly feels guilty for depending on Devon when Devon’s having a hard enough time just coping with things on his own.   
  
“I’m sorry dude, just go back to sleep.” Michael says dismissively, “I’ll call you back-“  
  
“No it’s whatever… What d’you want?” Devon answer. He sounds angry instead of tired.   
  
“Ry said he had a bad day I just-”  
  
“He did.” Devon confirms, “He tried to leave.”  
  
“He didn’t tell me that… How-”  
  
“He got out of bed. Pulled off all the wires and his IV came out again like we’re lucky he didn’t-” Devon doesn’t finish his sentence.  
  
“Lucky he didn’t what?”   
  
“If you’re that worried you should be here.” Devon snaps.   
  
“What?!”  
  
“It’s shitty you left bro.” Devon says, “Ry needs you and he won’t say it. It’s shitty you’re not here.”   
  
“I didn’t have a choice.” Michael argues. “I cancelled everything. This one thing I-“  
  
“You did! You coulda stayed but you left when Ry… He like fucking needs you. Dude he’d be like living in your room if it was you. He woulda given up everything.”   
  
“I know.”     
  
“Ry said to tell you that if you don’t wanna come back you don’t-”  
  
“Fuck off.” Michael says.  
  
“He thinks you want out dude.” Devon says angrily, “He wants me to give you an out but I’m not gonna-”  
  
“I don’t want an out.” Michael says it as firmly as he can, “I had no choice Devon. I had to come here.  He knows I’m coming back Dev. I’m coming back.”   
  
“He doesn’t.” Devon says. “He’s not like him… You tell him stuff and he forgets. He wouldn’t even do physio today he doesn’t see the point he-”   
  
“That’s not all on me.” Michael snaps back, “Don’t fucking-”   
  
“If you’re gonna fucking dump him like do it now don’t fucking keep- If you hurt him I swear-”   
  
“Devon.” Michael says firmly, “I’m not.”   
  
Michael wants to tell Devon to fuck off and to shut up but he takes a breath and forces himself to unclench the hand that’s not holding the phone.   
  
“I told Ry I was leaving, I told him I was coming back.” He explains, “I got the first flight out tomorrow. Dude I bought us a house like… Ry and I are in this for the long run or I am.”   
  
“I don’t like watching him hurt.” Devon defends himself.   
  
“Yeah well I’m not hurting him so chill.” Michael sits down on the bed and pulls his tie over his head, “Trust me fuck. Like first I want him to die now I want to break up? You need more sleep.”  
  
“He wouldn’t do physio.” Devon keeps explaining almost as an apology, “He wanted to sign himself out but dad wouldn’t bring him the papers so when he got pissed off and left Ry got up to go get ’em. He’s not super steady and they said his eyes don’t focus which is the most dangerous… Anyways he’s lucky he didn’t hit his head again or he hurt his leg when he had the seizure. He made it to the like elevator and then the lights stopped him but he didn’t know how to get back so he was kinda lost.”   
  
“Are you serious?”   
  
“Yeah, he was missing for like twenty minutes I’ve never seen my dad that freaked out. They gave him like… I don’t know… Meds for his head or to chill him out. He slept and then he was pissed off they drugged him-“   
  
“Fuck.” Michael groans, “He told me he got mad.”  
  
“Yo he told dad to fuck off.” Devon shakes his head, “Said he wanted all of us to leave. It’s hard dude.”   
  
“You’re doing good, like Ry knew you were still kicking around he told me.”  
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“I’m gonna go.” Devon yawns out, “Try to sleep on that fucking couch. I’ll see you tomorrow?”   
  
“Yeah. Late.” Michael adds, “I’ll try to drop by to see Ry.”   
  
“K good. Sorry for getting mad dude love ya. Night.” Devon says and he hangs up before Michael can answer.  
  
It’s how Ryan ends his calls to his family and Michael doesn’t have the chance to think about what Devon’s just said or say anything back and he knows that’s exactly how it works. That Devon hadn’t thought of it either but that it had just genuinely come out.   
  
He drops his tie next the box with Ryan’s cufflinks in it. He thinks about the other things Ryan had planned and how if he was here, they would have probably been hanging out at some pizza place trying to not be noticed.   
  
_“Like ten.” Ryan says once he’s chewed the first bite of his pizza slice._ _He reaches for the mountain dew bottle next to his plate and takes a drink observing Michael waiting for his answer._  
  
 _“Out of what?”_  
  
 _“What?”_  
  
 _“What’s the scale?”_  
  
 _“What’s the what?”_  
  
 _“Never mind” Michael takes a bite and chews, “Eight.”_  
  
 _“You’re retarded.” Ryan laughs, shakes his head and takes another bite, “This s’not a eight.”_  
  
Michael gets in bed and wonders if pizza can make it through an international flight.


	8. I love him... He's hurt.

The next morning all flights are grounded due to a hurricane. Michael sits in the first class lounge watching the minutes and then the hours go by.

He toys with the cufflink box and wishes it held a ring instead. He’s thought of proposing to Ryan before. He’d thought of doing it after Ryan’s birthday party or on his first night of retirement. He’d thought of doing it at Worlds months before or that weekend Ryan had spent in Baltimore. To be honest, he’d thought of doing it one month out of Beijing.

Michael regrets not proposing the morning of his last race. He doesn’t want Ryan to think that he’s doing it now because of the accident. Ryan’s never tolerated pity well. Michael doesn’t want to think that maybe Ryan’s the one who might want out. That facing recovery Ryan might have different priorities, that if he’s this angry at everyone he might lash out and break up. The thought of it scares him because aside from some vague thoughts about playing golf Ryan had been the only solid part of Michael’s post-London plans.

Two hours sitting alone in the airport makes his future a little more focused. He starts to make a list and for the first time it’s not about swimming at all; it’s just about Ryan. He needs a ring, blackout curtains for their home and the list of all the rehab centers Ryan might go to. He needs to propose, find someone to dig a pool but first he needs to just get back to London.

The list gets all the way to number fifteen before Michael is distracted by Ryan’s face on the television screen hanging from the ceiling. His stomach tightens and his heart races but as he squints up at the captions it becomes clear that this isn’t about Ryan as much as the guy who pushed Ryan in.

Michael’s been too busy to keep up with what charges have been pressed and what medals have been stripped and what FINA has decided to do. He hasn’t been too busy to think of what he wants to do though and seeing the dude’s face on television makes his blood boil. This guy can still walk and go places and fucking open his eyes in daylight while Ryan can’t.

“Fuckin’ fag. Deserved it.”

Michael turns around towards the voice and catches the man who’d just said it.

“Disgrace to the country wearing the flag and-“

Michael doesn’t think. He’s on his feet and crossing the lounge before he can think about what he’s going to say.

“Want to say that again?” He asks the middle-aged man in the suit who’s standing by the bar.  
“Oh shit.” The man puts one hand in front of his mouth and laughs while hitting his friend with the other, “It’s his fucking boyfriend.”

Michael’s taller and he pulls up every inch of himself to tower over the other man but he walks away without doing anything because the entire room is watching and there’s cell phones pointed at him already.

Michael corners him in the bathroom.

“Yo asshole!” He swings once and his fist makes direct contact with the guy’s jaw.

Blinding pain runs through his hand and he shakes it out. While he’s playfully punched Ryan at least five times a day for the last eight years, he’s never actually full out laid a blow on someone. Two of his fingers are throbbing, definitely broken. It doesn’t stop him.

He swings again with his other hand, knowing the blow won’t be as good. ”You don’t fuck with my family.” The blow gets the guy right between the eyes and he staggers back.

Michael leaves him there and storms out.

*

In the hour that follows, Michael learns that punching someone in an airport bathroom is a stupid idea. Punching someone in an airport bathroom when you’re famous is an even stupider idea.

They don’t take him to jail but he does miss his flight and there is a report and they can’t guarantee that the other guy won’t press charges. He’s pretty sure he’s getting off without being arrested because he’s Michael Phelps.

He makes it back to Baltimore instead of making it back to London. By the time he walks into his empty condo it’s almost dinnertime and the story is all over every gossip site and show known to man. It takes five minutes after it airs on TMZ for his phone to blow up. He lets it all go to voicemail.

He picks up when his mom calls.

“You don’t go around hitting people!” She yells at him in the same tone of voice she’d used for the great You don’t smoke pot speech of ’09.

“I really don’t regret it.” Michael tells her, “There is nothing you can say that will make me feel bad about punching that asshole in the face.”

“Use your words Michael! There’s ne-”

“Words weren’t going to cut it, I had to do it.”

“What were you thinking Michael!?” It’s another line stolen directly from 2009

“That I love Ry.” Michael says those words without thinking, “That he’s hurt.”

“How does this help Ryan Michael?”

“I was protecting-"

“How are you going to be there for him if you’re in jail?” She asks in what he assumes is the voice she’s used on decades worth of students.

“I’m not going to jail mom.” Michael’s suddenly really tired of the conversation, “Everything’s okay.”

“Everything is not okay! This-”

“I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” He hangs up on her and turns his cell phone off. He wonders if it’s possible to get grounded when you’re 28 and live on your own.

His hand hurts and is alarmingly swollen. He grabs some ice and sits on his bed to watch television. He wishes his dogs were home but they’re at his mom’s and getting them back requires talking to her.

Hours later though the pain in his hand is excruciating and he can no longer move his fingers. He doubts he can drive himself to the ER. Fifteen minute after he calls, his mom is the one driving him to get his hand checked out.

*

The nurse is too cheerful when she asks him what colour he wants for his cast. Michael sits on the bed and waits for the doctor to review the x-ray and for once he doesn’t have to care about how long this will keep him out of the pool. It doesn’t even strike him as odd that for the first thing he thinks about is Ryan. How long is this injury going to keep from heading back to London.

“There is a 48 hour no fly rule after breaking a bone.” The doctor explains while casting Michael’s hand in black fiberglass.

“Sorry what?” Michael says and he almost withdraws his hand in protest.

“Airlines require that you do not fly for 48 hours after-“

“Seriously?” He’s already calculating the delay it would take him to get to London.

“Yes, it’s for saf-“

“Can’t you write me a note?” Michael asks because there has to be a way out.

“I can’t, I can write you a note for 48 hours from now.”

“48 hours from this morning,” Michael says and he realizes how desperate he sounds.

It turns out that punching someone in the face in an airport bathroom is the stupidest idea ever when someone else waiting for you on the other side of the ocean

*

“were r u?”

The text message wakes Michael up an hour after he comes home from the hospital.

Michael hits dial, turns to his side and waits.

In his hospital bed, Ryan stares at the phone he’s kept hidden under his pillow. His head hurts from staring at the screen. He answers on the first ring.

“Devon said you’d be here when I got back from physio.” Ryan accuses, “Where are you?”

“Baltimore.” Michael admits.

“Oh.” Ryan says and everything’s he’s been afraid of since Michael had left comes crashing down. This is the phone call he’s been dreading.

“No Ry.” Michael groans, “I punched some douchebag at the airport. I broke my hand, I can’t fly out for two days.” There’s no point lying to him.

“No one like tells me anything, fuck.” Ryan says frustrated. “I was like thinking you… I was waiting all day.”

“I’m sorry babe.” Michael really is. “I tried calling but they wouldn’t put me through.”

“Someone shoulda told me.” Ryan defends him, “You broke your hand?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Michael brushes it off because the last thing he needs is for Ryan to worry about him.

“D’you knock him out?”

“Yeah. Broke his nose too I think.” Michael tells Ryan because he knows Ryan’s the one person who won’t try to give him a speech, “He was saying shit about you.”

Ryan doesn’t answer.

“You sound better babe.” Michael offers.

“They moved me to like the rehab floor, not the like drug one the-”

“I figured.”

“They took all the tubes and shit off too. I can walk if someone’s by me. I’m like wearing clothes. It’s a big deal.” Ryan tries to play it off but there’s definitely relief in his voice. “I can get outside people food.”

“I’ll be there in two days Ry.” Michael promises, “I’ll pick up pizza.”

“I’ll still be here.” Ryan says sounding discouraged again, “I tried signing myself out and-”

“I know. Dev said… dude I need you to be like safe.” Michael almost pleads. He knows Ryan’s not thinking the way Ryan usually does. “Your brain’s hurt dude you can’t just leave.”

“I don’t want to be here.” Ryan tries to argue, “I don’t feel sick.”

“I’ll take you home babe.” Michael replaces Buy blackout curtains with Find rehab stateside on his list.

“Where’s that?”

“Our house. We’ll make all the windows dark.” Michael lies back down against his pillows, “We’ll get another dog.”

“Promise?” Ryan sounds skeptical, “Because… I’m tired of fucking being lied to about shit.”

“I’ll get you home babe.” Michael promises, “I have two days to figure it out, it’s okay.”

“Don’t like… punch anymore people okay?” The edge is gone from Ryan’s voice, “Like I need you here and shit… Behave yourself.”

“Behave yourself too dude, I love you.”

“I know.” Ryan says, “Go to bed.”

*

Once he hangs up Michael can’t go back to sleep. There’s a continuous loop of Pawn Stars on television and he tries to figure out how you can furnish an entire house without ever stepping foot into it.

Michael knows Ryan’s family and his doctors in London and probably half of USA Swimming are trying to find ways to bring Ryan back home and into the best rehab center they can find.

He falls asleep while he looks at refrigerators and wonders why you’d ever need one that you can tweet from. He can’t imagine the nonsense Ryan would manage to tweet from a fridge.

Michael’s next day is devoted to dodging the crowd of paparazzi outside his home by staying in and making a hundred phone calls. There are people to pack up his things and people to unpack them in Florida. There’s an interior designer who asks for pictures of his home and of Ryan’s home so that she can mesh both their styles into one. Michael tells her there has to be a pool table and all the window coverings need to block out light.

*

By the time Michael gets back to London the press is insane. He needs a security escort to get out of the airport and there is an even bigger crowd of them waiting at the hospital.

Devon waits for him just outside the elevator doors of the main lobby. He still looks tired but the worry lines are gone from his forehead and his smile is easy again. It gives Michael hope that Ryan isn’t just pretending to be doing better for his benefit.

“Nice cast dude.” Devon tells Michael before he reaches out to hug him.

“Worth it.” Michael explains.

“Worth it.” Devon agrees.

Devon presses the up button for the elevator and rubs at a scuff mark on the floor with the toe of his sneaker. There are bruises on his arm that weren’t there four days ago. He’s wearing one of Ryan’s chains.

“How’s Ryan?” Michael asks him.

“Better, he said he had a headache so he’s in his room. He hasn’t told any of us to fuck off today so like good day or whatever. He’s waiting for you.”

“Did he try leaving again?”

The elevator beeps open and Michael and Devon step aside to let a woman pushing an IV pole by. Michael puts his hand against the closing door and lets Devon walk in first.

“No,” Devon leans against the wooden bar, “After first time they put a bracelet on him, it sends an alarm to the nurses station if he walks out the floor doors.”

“Bet he’s really stoked on that one.”

“He talks about it and like he gets up but there’s security on the floor and our dad’s pretty good at talking him out of it now. He was so scared last time Ryan tried that he’s not fucking around now. Like when he was lost… You don’t even know bro.” Devon closes his eyes like he’s trying to forget.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done.” Devon waves off his apology, “Like Ry was pretty sure about peacing out. He’s stubborn. The doctor said he gets confused but it’s Ry.”

“How are his eyes?”

“Bad.” Devon doesn’t sugar coat it, “He can’t focus on things. He can’t watch tv or look at his macbook screen. We thought maybe he could draw but he can’t concentrate. They’re running tests. They gave him like those old people sun glasses?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah he hates them.” Devon shakes his head.

The elevator beeps for their floor and Devon steps out first. A security guard standing by the door nods at him and Devon nods back before he puts a hand against Michael’s chest and prevents him from walking to the doors.

 

“Ry said you were taking him home. That’s like messed up if you’re lying to him.”

“We’re not lying Dev.” Michael groans, “Everyone’s trying to take him back. There’s good rehabs back home. We just have to get him cleared here. Dude you gotta trust me.”

“I…” Devon glances around before speaking, “I kidnaped Ry yesterday.”

“You what?” It’s Michael’s turn to push a hand against Devon’s chest.

“He like woke up scared… And he was freaking out.”

“Over what?”

“I don’t know.” Devon admits, “So I like… His stupid bracelet comes off and I took him out.”

“Out where?”

“Outside, to like see that there’s fucking life still outside here. Dude he’s been in for like weeks.” Devon defends himself, “He was crying.”

The worry lines are back on Devon’s face and Devon looks devastated.

“So like.” Devon keeps going, “He’s acting tough I think but he’s scared dude, you gotta like… I don’t like seeing him scared.”

“He’s gonna go home.” Michael tries, “UF has a really good rehab for brain injuries, they’re gonna find him a place there.”

“I hate this place man.” Devon looks around, “Ry hates it.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees, “I hate it too.”

Michael pretends to not notice when Devon wipes his eyes with his sleeve and he waits for him to drop the hand that’s keeping him pressed to the wall closest to the elevator.

“Can we like go in?” Michael asks once Devon’s done because Devon is still holding on, “Am I trustworthy?”

“Yeah.” Devon laughs and drops his arm, “Ry sent me down to get you. I should probably deliver.”

*

The rehab floor looks less like a hospital. It still smells like antiseptic but the nurses’ station is at the end of the hall and no one’s walking around in hospital gowns.

“You gotta like get dressed and go eat in the dining room.” Devon explains, “But like it’s too bright in there so they’re letting Ry slide by for that. His room’s just over there.”

Devon points to somewhere in the middle of the hall and Michael tries hard to keep his eyes forward and not look into any of the rooms as he walks by. Part of it is to not be recognized and part of it is to just not see. After almost a month of being in this hospital he feels like he’s witnessed way too much of other people’s business.

“They took the tape or whatever off his head.” Devon warns, “It’s like pretty gnarly so just a heads up.”

“I don’t care.” Michael answers. “This it?”

“Yeah.” Devon points at the blank white board, “We didn’t wanna like put his name up in case people like get in y’know? Privacy and stuff… Other people have been really good about it. This old dude was teaching Ry to play bridge-”

“You coming in?” Michael interrupts impatiently.

“Nah dude.” Devon takes a step back, “Ry said… Doesn’t matter I’ll be out somewhere. I got my phone if you need me.”

*

Ryan’s room is still just as dark but there are no monitors. Someone’s hung a flag on the wall and there are flowers and balloons everywhere. There’s a pile of skittles bags by the window and two pairs of sneakers lined up by the small closet cupboard.

“Ha your hair.” Ryan laughs when Michael walks close enough for Ryan to see him.

“Really Ry?” Michael self consciously smoothes his hair back, but Ryan’s laugh is one of the best thing, fuck that; the best thing he’s heard in weeks.

Ryan is lying down over the blankets. He’s wearing camo shorts and a white t-shirt. The swelling and the bruising on his face has gone down. He looks less tired, and his smile is for real.

“You look ridiculous, I have to fix this, c’mere.” Ryan motions Michael forward and sits up. “Can you raise my bed up? The nurses disabled my controls. They said I was a hazard to myself.”

Michael takes a step closer. Having Ryan talk and sound like… Ryan, pre-accident Ryan doesn’t feel real. He’s afraid that if he gets close to the bed, the illusion will fade.

Ryan pats the spot beside him on the bed “Sit, come on. I’m sick. Do what I say.”

“That excuse isn’t good forever, just so you know.” Michael says it automatically because sick or not there’s only so much Ryan gets away with.

“The controls are up there,” Ryan points above his head “dude are you scared of me come closer.”

Michael doesn’t know why his hands are shaking; he tries to steady them as he squints in the darkness to figure out which button to push. He pushes the one with the picture of the sitting stick man on it and the back of Ryan’s bed raises up.

“Thanks.” Ryan says but his voice sounds a little unsure, “Sit MP. It’s good.”

Michael moves until his legs hit the edge of the bed. Ryan looks up at him, still squinting even in the darkness. Michael can see for the first time the scar that runs up the side of Ryan’s head, the staples all lined up and the patch of hair missing.

”Who are you to laugh at my hair, half of yours is shaved off.” He says before thinking about it.

“I know,” Ryan groans, he reaches for a hat that’s beside him and slips it on, “I haven’t decided if I’m shaving it all off yet. Seems like a harsh move.”

Michael stays standing and Ryan’s eyes narrow even more, the corners of his mouth drop and he gets the same worry lines on his forehead that Devon was sporting in the hallway.

“Sit,” Ryan requests quietly, “I’m not gonna… You don’t have to be scared. It’s me.”  
Ryan pats the spot beside him again, “Sit down fuck I can’t reach that high.”

Michael sits down and Ryan moves his legs to the side to give him more room. Ryan runs his hand up Michael’s arm tentatively and squeezes his shoulder before he reaches up for his hair.

Michael’s surprised by how strong Ryan’s grip still is and scoots closer to him. Ryan’s not hooked up to an IV, but the ports are still on the back of his hand Ryan catches him staring.

“Don’t worry about those, it’s just in case… They’re taking them out today.” Ryan runs his hand on the side of Michael’s head as he talks. Rubbing the pads of his fingers against the back of Michael’s head.

“Watch it.” Michael stops Ryan’s wrist when he sees the needle pull.

“What are you my mom? It’s not going to rip, look how much tape there is.” Ryan flexes his wrist in front of Michael’s face before putting them back in his hair. “Don’t worry.”

Instead of answering Michael hangs his head to give Ryan easier access. Ryan moves closer, letting Michael rest his forehead on his shoulder. Ryan pushes Michael’s hair up and to the side and whatever else the fuck he does to make it look good. It’s almost like being home.

The t-shirt Ryan’s wearing smells like before, like his cologne and his laundry detergent. Michael breathes it in and there’s a lump in his throat. Before he can think to stop it, a sob escapes.

“Shit babe, no.” Ryan puts both his hands on Michael’s shoulder and pulls him back to look at his face. He stops grinning and his face creases with concern “Your hair’s fine, I was just making fun of-” He cups Michael’s face in both his hands wiping tears away. “Dude, don’t cry please.”

“It’s not my hair. I was so fucking worried about you.” Michael really wants to stop crying but he can’t.

“I’m okay.” Ryan leans his forehead against Michael’s, he clears his throat, “I’m okay Mike, stop.”

“I pulled you out of the water, I thought you were dead.” Michael doesn’t know why those words come out.

“I know.” Ryan clears his throat again, “And I’m okay jeah? I’m good.”

Ryan moves himself back on the bed and even though they both don’t really fit he pulls Michael next to him. “Lay down with me, come on.”

“I’m sorry.” Michael wipes his face with the back of his hand, “I should be the one holding you or some shit.”

“It’s ok. This feels good.” Ryan wraps his arms around him, “Like I’m not fucking broken. I fucking hate being the victim.”

“You’re not broken.” Michael says firmly, “You’ll be good.”

Ryan holds him tighter, “How’s your hand?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“If I could like… concentrate and look at something for more than two minutes without my head feeling like it’s going to explode I’d draw on your cast.” Ryan offers.

“What would you draw?” Michael rubs his good hand over the arm Ryan has across his chest.

“Carter floating in space.” Ryan laughs quietly as he thinks about the details of his imagined drawing. He runs his fingers on the edge of Michael’s cast and intertwines their fingers together.

“I missed you so much dude.” Ryan admits after a bit. “Don’t like do that again. Let people shit talk me.”

“You wouldn’t let people shit talk me.” Michael answers.

Ryan makes a noise of agreement and after a few moments of silence his hands still before he slumps against Michael’s side.

“Are you okay?” Michael asks. For a second he’d managed to forget that they were still in a hospital that Ryan was still recovering.

“I’m just really… tired.” Ryan yawns, “My head hurts.”

“Then sleep babe.” Michael pushes himself up.

“Stay.” Ryan sits up and leans back against Michael’s chest, pinning him down. “Don’t go.”

“I was just going to sit, we’re both kind of too big for this bed.”

Ryan ignores him. He shakes his head against Michael and snakes his arm across Michael’s stomach. Michael awkwardly rests his cast against Ryan’s back. He waits for Ryan’s breathing to even out.

“I missed my birthday party.” Ryan whines softly.

“You did.” Michael yawns, “I still have your suit.”

“You gave my cake away to trick bitches ”

“Your nurses?”

“Yeah.” Ryan opens one eye to look at Michael, “They put a tube in my dick.”

“Jesus Christ Ry.” Michael groans, “Just go to fucking sleep.”

“It better work exactly like it did before.”

Michael doesn’t offer an answer and Ryan stops talking. Just as he’s drifting off to sleep, Ryan pokes his shoulder.

“You’re still gonna take me home?” Ryan asks his voice unsure.

“Yeah.” Michael answers thinking of the list he’d written at the airport, “We’re gonna go home.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly this isn't real. 
> 
> If you don't like it just move along. There's no need to be a bully.

A week and a half after Michael gets back to London they get word that Ryan has bypassed the waiting list to get into the rehab hospital at Shands. Ryan gets to go home. 

There are meetings between the team that’s taking care of Ryan in London and the team that’s awaiting him in Gainesville. During Ryan’s intake assessment, the two teams are video conferencing while Ryan sits to the left of his physiotherapist and to the right of Michael. 

Ryan drums his fingers against his thighs and tries to concentrate on everything that’s being said about him. He has a hard time looking directly at the screen but he forces himself to anyways. His new thick-rimmed glasses make it easier for him to focus but lights still bother him.

The neurologist refers to him in the third person, like he’s not even in the room and Ryan balls his fists in anger. 

Michael rubs his fingers against Ryan’s hand and after a second Ryan unclenches his fists and intertwines his fingers with Michael’s. 

Michael thought Ryan would have attended this meeting with his parents. After almost a month and a half of watching him fight for Ryan, Michael figures that if he was hurt and people were going to be deciding his future he’d want Steven Lochte in his corner. 

Ryan had asked Michael though. 

Michael knows that this is Ryan’s way of getting control back, that without meaning to hurt anyone he’s sending a message. That he’s planning on going home and living his life the way he had planned on doing before any of this happened. That he’s going to make his own decisions. That Michael’s now a permanent part of his life and if there important decisions to be made they’ll make them together. 

Ryan’s tired of the way the hospital smells and how it’s never quiet. He hates hearing the codes knowing someone’s in trouble. He hates that he can’t leave the floor alone, that he can’t go anywhere, that he can’t take the stupid bracelets off and that the beds are too small. He has a hard time dealing with the fact that at most he gets one day of freedom between being discharged from London and being admitted to Shands. 

As tough as he’s pretending to be, Michael knows Ryan is terrified of this meeting. Terrified that he’ll be told he can’t go home, that he can’t go to Shands or that he still has months of in-patient care. 

“We feel-” The intake team lead in Florida speaks, “That the level of care provided by in-patient treatment is more than Ryan needs-”

“Wh-What?” Ryan asks. 

“The speed of your recovery.” The doctor talks to Ryan, “And your dedication to treatment plus the incredible support of your family are enough for you to make a successful transition from hospital care to our out-patient program.” 

“So I’m going home.” Ryan says when she stops talking to smile at him. “Like to my house.” 

“Yes. We believe that your recovery will be more successful-” 

“When?” Ryan tries to keep the hopefully desperation out of his voice.

“Today.”

The doctor keeps talking but both Michael and Ryan stop listening, under the table Ryan squeezes Michael’s hand and when Michael looks at him he sees Ryan smiling so hard the corner of his eyes crinkle. 

The news that Ryan can go home, to his house and to his life makes Ryan happier than he’s been since before the accident. When the meeting is finished, Ryan stays sitting long enough to absorb the news and Michael stays next to him. 

Ryan going home makes it easy to believe that Ryan is okay. That Ryan will just leave London, get back to Florida and pick up his life where he left off. Michael knows that kind of thinking is dangerous because as happy as Ryan is to go home it’s ridiculous to expect him to be totally better. 

Ryan has improved, he’s worked hard to be where he is but he still keeps his glance down to hide his eyes. He looses his train of thought fast when he talks (even though they’ve all argued that it was something Ryan had always done) and has a hard time concentrating on anything. He has trouble sleeping through the night without medication. He repeats things and forgets details. 

But Ryan can walk without help and he hasn’t forgotten how to do anything. He can take care of himself. 

Ryan takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. He glances sideways at Michael. 

“You moving to Florida?” He asks still grinning. 

Michael nods. He doesn’t tell Ryan about the twenty unread emails he has from contractors and the interior decorator about their house that’s now been mostly gutted. Doesn’t talk to Ryan about how most of his belongings are in storage and how he still doesn’t know how he’s going to get his dogs to Florida. He just nods. 

“I was always winning that fight.” Ryan laughs. 

“Just because you wouldn’t make it through the winter.” Michael picks up Ryan’s glasses off the table, thinks of how often they’re going to get lost or stepped on or left to melt somewhere and hands them to Ryan. 

“Lets go pack my shit son.” Ryan puts his glasses on before he squeezes Michael’s shoulder. He stands up without reaching for anything to steady himself. “We’re goin’ home.” 

*

“It’s gonna take forever to pack all this up.” Devon groans.

“Yeah, thanks for helping.” Michael keeps taking get well cards and get well posters off the wall, peeling the tape off the back and shoving them in an envelope. 

“What am I s’pose to do?” Devon asks, “Like put those in front of me and I’ll jam them in envelopes.” 

Michael unsticks an oversized greeting card that had once played the chorus of “Eye Of The Tiger” before Ryan’s mom had ripped the battery out in frustration when it kept going off unexpectedly. 

Michael holds out the card to Devon whose face fills the screen of the iPad that’s propped up on Ryan’s bed against the pillow. In Florida, Devon pretends to reach out for it. 

Devon missed a week of school before Ryan had told him to go home. Ryan had also tried to send his parents home but they had refused. Ryan had never told Michael he could go. 

“When’s your flight out?” Devon asks, “Do I gotta pick you up?”

“Me and Ry fly out tomorrow night.” Michael says, “We land in Boston and then we’re suppose to fly home-”

“Can’t believe you’re calling here home yo.” Devon interrupts. 

“Yeah anyway,” Michael keeps talking, “we’re suppose to fly right back out but if Ry’s like not okay for it we’re gonna stay overnight in Boston. I’ll call you.” 

“Your dogs moving in too?” 

“I haven’t figured that out yet.” Michael takes tape off the back of a poster and adds it to the ball he’s formed, “Like eventually yeah maybe I’ll drive up in a few weeks and get ‘em. They’re with my sister.” 

“Your fam know you’re moving?” Devon’s voice gets fainter as he moves away from his computer to go get a book that’s on his bed. 

“Yeah.” Michael assumes he’s told his mom at some point in the last few phone conversations they’ve had about his plans to move to Florida, “I mean they gotta know that I’d be there for Ry at least-” 

“Where is he?” Devon sits back down at his desk, “Should he be helping you?” 

“He had some people to say bye to… Like that guy who taught him to play bridge.” 

“They don’t play bridge.” Devon shakes his head, “They sit there and he listens to Ryan talk.” 

“Whatever, he went to say bye.” Michael says tugging on another card.

The rest of the cards stuck to the wall come off in one piece and Michael folds them up tape and all before shoving them into the envelope. He reaches for the card he’d put down in front of Devon and puts that one in too. 

Ryan’s room is bare, all the stuffed animals, the flowers and the balloons have been redistributed throughout the hospital. The candy has gone to the nurses and Ryan’s things are in a duffel bag and in his green backpack. Michael picks up the envelope and puts it on top of the duffel bag. 

“It’s gonna take you so long to pack up that hotel room.” Devon notes. 

“My stuff’s packed.” Michael answers. He picks at a piece of tape that’s stuck to his cast. “Ry and I are staying there tonight.”

“Right.” Devon raises his eyebrow at Michael.

“No.” Michael shakes his head, “Just like… It’s what Ryan… I can mute you.”

Michael has been so focused on getting Ryan out of the hospital that he’s never stopped to think of what will happen once Ryan leaves, once they have privacy again and a bed that they can both fit into. He’d spent the night before packing his stuff and making sure Ryan had things ready that had never seen the inside of a hospital. Michael had set Ryan’s phone and his watch on the nightstand on Ryan’s side of the bed. He’d put his shampoo in the shower and his hoodie on the back of the chair. He just wanted Ryan to feel safe, like it was his space too.

While they wait for Ryan, Devon studies and Michael starts answering some of the contractor’s emails. No he doesn’t care if the wall between the kitchen and the dining room has to come down. Yes he wants all the doorways to be cut higher. Yes he wants a safety fence around the pool. He randomly picks a colour for the kitchen cabinets out of the swatches the interior designer had sent, Natural instead of Desert Sand. He’s trying to figure out the difference between Floral White, Cloud White and Vanilla Milkshake and to understand why the inside of the closets have to be painted when Ryan walks back in. 

“Dude here.” Ryan calls out. 

Ryan walks in brandishing a shaving kit bag. He grips the railing that runs along the wall tight. He tries to throws the bag at Michael but misses by a long shot. The bag hits the wall and falls on the bed knocking Devon to the floor. 

“Nice shot.” Devon says sarcastically, the speakers of the iPad slightly muffled from being on the floor, “This is a great view.”

“Shut up.” Ryan bends down to pick it up and puts Devon back on the bed. He props another pillow behind the Ipad and angles him more to the side of the room, “D’you get hurt?” 

“What d’you throw?” Devon asks, “Show me.” 

“Clippers.” Ryan says, “One of you is shaving my head.” 

Devon looks at Michael and Michael looks at Devon. Ryan groans in frustration. 

“I’m not walking out of here with a half shaved head. Like the spot grew enough it should be even if you pick the right thing.” Ryan says looking at them expectantly. 

Michael nudges the box away from him with his toe and pushes it closer to Devon. 

“You’re a bunch of pussies.” Ryan says disappointed. 

“Yeah cause I can totally help you out.” Devon rolls his eyes, “You’re up Phelps.” 

“I’ve never cut hair.” Michael argues, “You actually don’t want me to do this.” 

“You might be a natural.” Ryan offers, “Like this could be your new thing.” 

“You never know until you try.” Devon laughs, “If you fuck up he’s your boyfriend so you’re the one that has to look at him.” 

“I’m not.” Michael decides, “We’ll like get someone to come to our hotel.” 

“I’ll do it myself.” Ryan laments. He sits down beside Devon and opens the bag to observe the contents. He tests the adjustable clipper length before plugging them into the wall. “If I fuck up you’re the one that has to look at me.” 

“Give ‘em.” Michael finally decides, he stands up and reaches out for the bag “Sit.” 

Ryan gets up from the bed and sits in the chair Michael had just vacated. He takes the iPad and holds it up so Devon and him are eye to eye. 

“Well that’s awkward.” Devon blinks, “Hi.” 

“You’re gonna tell me if he’s doing a good job.” Ryan tells him, “This is more important than reading.” 

Devon reluctantly closes his book but Ryan doesn’t put the iPad back down he keeps Devon exactly where he is. 

“Your eyes look better.” Devon says, “Like I can tell you’re looking at me. Glasses help?” 

“Yeah. Big time.” Ryan admits.

Michael hooks a foot on one of the chair legs and pulls Ryan closer to him. He props his feet on either side of the chair and tilts Ryan’s head both ways to inspect it. 

“Let’s do this.” Michael says flicking the clippers on. 

Michael shaves the uninjured side of Ryan’s head first. He presses his fingers against the back of Ryan’s neck to keep his head tilted forward and watches the bits of longer hair that were just starting to curl fall down against Ryan’s t-shirt. 

Ryan rests the iPad against the arm of the chair and rubs Michael’s legs. He closes his eyes and reminds himself that he’s on his way home. That he’s sleeping in a hotel tonight and not at the hospital. 

“That looks about even.” Devon calls out. 

Ryan opens his eyes and nods at him before closing them again. He’s more tired than he’s willing to admit.

“Stop moving.” Michael warns. He holds Ryan’s neck as still as he can with the limited movement in this hand. “That side’s done.” He turns off the clippers and messes his fingers against Ryan’s new short hair brushing off any loose strands.

“Do the other half dude.” Ryan says, “Don’t make me look like a freak.” 

“You coulda just worn a hat.” Devon points out. “Got a haircut here.” 

“Tell me if I hurt you.” Michael says trying to psyche himself up to shave the other half of Ryan’s head. “Like the scar goes pretty far.” 

“It doesn’t hurt serious.” Ryan lifts his own hand up to press against the line of pale pink skin that runs over his ear and curves around the back of his scalp. “Touch it.” 

“You could just wear a hat.” Michael chooses to agree with Devon, “You have three.” 

“Don’t be a girl Phelps or I’m just gonna do it myself.” Ryan threatens, “I wanna go home.”

“We have to wait for your parents anyways.” Michael tells Ryan. 

“So the quicker you do it the readier we are.” 

“You fight like you’re fifty.” Devon remarks, “Like if you do this at home…”

“Fine.” Michael turns the clippers back on, “Just don’t move.” 

Michael carefully shaves around the scar, running the edge of the clipper half an inch over it. Ryan’s right, the hair around it has grown enough to blend in with the rest. Once it’s all grown out Ryan’s curls will hide any evidence that he was ever hurt. 

With renewed confidence, Michael testily runs the clippers over Ryan’s scar. He gets an inch into it before Ryan jerks away. 

“Ow!” Ryan cries out. 

“Sorry! Shit!” Michael turns the clippers off and puts his hand over Ryan’s scalp, knocking his cast against Ryan’s head “I didn’t know I was-“ 

“Just kidding Phelps.” Ryan laughs, “Relax. I don’t need another concussion.” 

“Swear to god Lochte.” Michael punches Ryan’s shoulder, “Asshole.”

“Don’t break your other hand.” Ryan’s still laughing, “You’re taking this way too seriously.” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you like excuse me.” Michael shoves at Ryan’s shoulder again. “Fuck you you’re done.” 

“D’you finish?” 

“I don’t know.” Michael answers, “Maybe.” 

“Did he finish?” Ryan asks Devon he stretches for the iPad and holds it up above his head giving Devon’s a bird’s eye view of his haircut. 

“No.” Devon answers honestly, “There’s like a strip that’s still longer.” 

“Thanks.” Ryan tells Devon, “Finish.” He orders Michael. 

“Yeah say you’re sorry.” Michael conditions but he turns the clippers back on anyways. He finishes the last strip of hair in one run. “There.” 

“I’m sorry.” Ryan apologizes. He reaches to feel his newly short hair, “I had to.” 

“That’s the worst apology.” Devon says, “That was a dick move.” 

“Go back to reading.” Ryan tells him, “I gotta go sign a bunch of papers and give these back to Richard. I’ll call you when we get to the hotel.” 

“You stocked on comin’ home?” Devon asks, “I told Carter and I think he got it. He keeps trying to knock down the door to your room.” 

“You even don’t know.” Ryan replies. “You gonna pick us up?” 

“Yeah.” Devon nods, “For sure… I got like… I’ll be there.” 

“We’ll call you tonight. I just wanna finish everything so we can leave.” 

“I’ll see you guys soon.” Devon waves off, “Bye Mike.” 

“Bye dude. I’ll let you know about our flight.” Michael leans over Ryan’s shoulder so Devon can see him. 

Ryan ends the call right after. He puts the cover back on the iPad and zips it into his backpack. He rubs his hand over his head and scratches the skin where the arms of his glasses rest. 

Michael busies himself with wrapping the cord back around the clippers and putting them back into the shaving kit. 

“You all set?” He asks Ryan. “I think I got everything.” 

It’s quiet. Michael keeps his feet on Ryan’s chair and lets Ryan lean against his right knee. Ryan fiddles with glasses. He takes them off and rubs the lenses clean with his shirt before putting them back on. 

“Leaving here is kind of hard.” Ryan admits quietly. “I don’t wanna stay but like… It’s…” 

Ryan doesn’t finish. This place is safe. This floor is where no one expects him to be anything. Where no one looks when he looses his balance or when he walks past his room. No one here cares that he has gold medals at home but that right now he has trouble walking down stairs. No one here asks how he got hurt.

“You’re gonna be good at home.” Michael reassures.

“Yeah.” Ryan stands up, “I don’t wanna be in this room anymore. Let’s go wait outside.” 

*

An hour after his haircut, Ryan leans against the nurses’ station and signs his name on every line his dad points to. His signature is slightly sloppier than before but the difference is small. 

“It’s raining, it shouldn’t be that bad.” Ryan’s mother says to no one in particular, “Maybe we should wait until it’s dark.”

“You can wait until it’s dark.” Ryan suggests, “I’m not.” 

“Ryan. Two more.” Steven tries to get his attention back, he taps his fingers against the paper, “Come on.” 

Instead of paying attention to the paper Ryan cranes his neck to see the windows. An orderly pushing a cart full of trays distracts him and Ryan stares at them as they walk down the hallway.

“Ryan come on.” Steven repeats again. He picks up Ryan’s hand and puts it back on the counter next to the papers, “Focus.” 

“Stop.” Ryan cautions before he jerks his arm away.

Michael doesn’t step forward to intervene. Ryan is losing his patience. It’s taking way longer than it should to leave and both his parents are well meaning but getting on his last nerves. 

“There.” Ryan hurriedly scribbles his initials on the last two lines. 

“You could have-” Steven starts once he sees what Ryan’s written. 

“Yeah?” Ryan fumes. He shoves the pen away, “Don’t.”

Ryan doesn’t apologize, instead he walks away from the desk and paces while he waits. 

Michael knows Ryan is stressed out. He doesn’t know what to say so he paces beside him. 

“I’m not gonna fall.” Ryan mutters after a few seconds, “You don’t gotta walk beside me.” 

“I know.” Michael scratches the back of his neck, “She just has to make sure you have everything. Just like relax.” 

It takes a few more minutes before Ryan is officially discharged. A nurse takes the alarm bracelet off his wrist before going over the medication he has to take. Michael can tell Ryan isn’t listening to anything anymore. 

“All set?” The discharge nurse asks Ryan with a smile. 

“Yeah.” Ryan answers a few seconds too late, “Yeah I’m good.” 

“You’re free to go.” She beams. 

“I’m not gonna beep am I?” Ryan asks her after handing over the bag full of pill bottles to Michael, “Like I’m good?” 

“You are not going to set off the alarm.” She reassures him, “We’re kicking you out.” 

Even with her encouragement Ryan still walks out of the ward doors looking skeptical. When the alarm doesn’t go off he relaxes and slides his hand into the back pocket of Michael’s jeans. He props his chin up on Michael’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He feels his glasses slide down his nose and doesn’t bother pushing them up.

“You’re out.” Michael says softly. 

“Where are we even going?” Ryan asks. 

“Hotel. Until we head out tomorrow.” 

“Is it far?” 

“Ten minutes.”

“I’m tired.” Ryan groans. 

“Me too.” Michael admits, “Taking all those cards down. Dev did fuck all to help.” 

Ryan laughs. When the elevator doors open, he shoulders his backpack and picks up his duffel before anyone else can do it for him. He presses the ground floor button before anyone else even gets into the elevator. 

“We can take a wheelchair Ryan.” His mom suggests. 

“Hells no.” Ryan shakes his head at her. He takes a hat from the pocket of his backpack and pulls it low over his face. “You want me to push you?” 

“No I just thought if you’re tired-” 

“I’m fine.” Ryan insists, “I’m walking out.” 

“Ryan don’t put yourself-” Steven starts. 

“Stop.” Ryan pleads, “I want to walk out. I’m fine. Stop.” 

The neurologist had given Ryan a pair of large sunglasses, meant to slip over his own, the kind Michael’s only ever seen elderly people wear. Ryan digs through his backpack for them and as soon as they’re out of the elevator he throws them in the first garbage can he sees. 

“I don’t think you can recycle those.” Michael points out. 

“Can I use yours?” Ryan points to the pair hanging on the neck of Michael’s t-shirt. 

“Yeah, I’ll switch with you.” Michael doesn’t hesitate. He hands over his sunglasses and hangs Ryan’s where his own had been. 

Security stops them just before they get within view of the main doors. It’s the easiest way to get to a car. Michael knows that stateside they could have escaped through an underground parking lot and Ryan wouldn’t have had to go outside. 

The paparazzi that have been hanging around the hospital all summer had somehow figured out in the last few days that Ryan would be discharged soon. The crowd of ten had multiplied and been joined by a few news outlets that morning. No one apparently had any respect for Ryan’s privacy or for his well being. 

“We moved them across the street.” The first guard explains, “There’s police out there. Huge crowd but the car is waiting. Should be a quick exit.”

“What about the flashes?” Steven asks, “They shouldn’t be using them.” 

“This startin’ out real good.” Ryan mutters. He pushes his hat down lower over his face and bows his head to stare at his shoes. “I just wanna go.” 

“We told them but there’s no guarantee. We’ll walk in front of you and it’s really a short bit to the car. If he gets in-” 

“I’m right here.” Ryan points out, “You can talk to me.” 

“If he… you…” The security guard stammers. 

“Ryan.” Ryan offers.

“If Ryan walks out second he should be shielded from most of it-” 

“Dude.” Ryan says, “I can’t deal with flashes. I don’t wanna like… Being outside is gonna be freaking bad enough.” 

“That’s not going to happen.” Steven tells him, “Sit down Ryan. We’ll figure another way.” He orders.

“I’m good standing.” Ryan snaps. “I’m not good with lights.” 

Ryan drops his bags and turns around to rest against Michael and Michael loops one arm around Ryan’s waist. He strokes his thumb against Ryan’s side. It’s the most public show of affection they’ve ever displayed and after years of freaking out over it Michael realizes that it’s pretty easy. No one stops to stare, no one laughs, and no one yells anything out. People just walk by. 

Ryan lifts his head to kiss Michael’s neck, his lips fluttering over Michael’s pulse point. Michael tightens his grip and tips Ryan’s face up to kiss him. Once he pulls away Ryan refocuses his attention on the details of his escape route. 

Michael ends up walking out first. Once he’s taken a step out of the doors one of the security guards grabs his elbow and guides him into the car, he moves all the way to the end of the seat and turns his head to make sure Ryan is still right behind him.

Even with his eyes closed Ryan knows the paparazzi have seen him, the flashes multiply and the yelling gets louder. He hesitates and drops a foot behind Michael before Steven nudges him forward. 

“Go. Keep your eyes closed.” Steven puts his hand on the back of Ryan’s neck, he drops it for a second to squeeze his son’s shoulders, “Three steps, don’t open them until the car starts moving alright? I’m right behind you.” 

Someone grabs Ryan’s elbow and Ryan feels his dad protectively put a hand on top of his head to prevent him from hitting it on the car. Ryan sits and slides down until he’s pressed up against Michael. 

Ryan still sees the flashes go off inside his eyelids. Every single one of them sends a shooting pain to the front of his head. He puts his hands over his face and slouches forward. He doesn’t care about pretending to be fine; he just wants the pain to stop. 

“It’s going to be okay.” Steven reassures, he reaches over his son to buckle his seat belt “We’re starting to move. Just hang on.” 

They leave the mob of paparazzi behind rather quickly and after a minute Ryan lifts his head back up. He pulls the sunglasses off his face and grabs his prescription ones from Michael’s shirt. 

“How far’s the hotel?” Ryan asks. He puts his arm over the back of the seat around Michael’s shoulders. 

“Ten minutes.” Michael tells him again. 

“Good.” Ryan nods. With his glasses on most of the pain has gone away. “Awesome.” 

“Did you want to have dinner?” His mom asks from the passenger seat, “We can eat in my room. You have time to nap before dinner.” 

“No.” Ryan shakes his head, “I’m just gonna go to bed.” 

“We’ll do breakfast.” She offers instead, “Late tomorrow morning. Before we leave for the airport.” She reaches to the backseat with her hand. 

“Yeah sure.” Ryan doesn’t have to stretch far to hold her hand. “Breakfast.” 

“Those look good on you.” She smiles, pointing to his glasses. “You look smart. Did you cut your hair?” 

“Um Mike did.” Ryan takes the hat off his head, “He did alright.” 

“I did amazing.” Michael cuts in, “It’s my new calling.” 

“You’re better off with golf.” Steven palms the back of Ryan’s head, “You missed a few spots.” 

*

There’s no one waiting for them at the hotel and they get to quietly slip into the building. Here there are no safety railings along the wall and even though Ryan usually doesn’t have trouble walking on his own he grips Michael’s arm.

They leave Ryan’s parents at the elevators. Once they’re gone Ryan is noticeably more relaxed. 

“They stress me out.” Ryan admits. “It’s like I’m sixteen and they’re gonna ground me.” 

“They just care.”

“I know. I’m just not used to- Like I live on my own. I take care of Dev.” 

“You’ll be there in two days, we’ll be there.” Michael presses the up button again. Like he can will the elevator to get to them faster. 

“My mom’s gonna move in.” Ryan groans, “Dude you can’t let her.” 

“She has your brother.” Michael rationalizes, “She won’t move to Gainesville.” 

“I just don’t want her living with us?” Ryan scrunches up his face, “Like walking in.” He says disgusted. 

“Walking in on us?” Michael laughs, “You got big plans?”

Ryan bumps their shoulders together. When the elevator doors open he lets Michael pick up his bags. 

“Five.” Michael tells Ryan once the elevator doors close, “All your stuff’s there. Here.” Michael takes his wallet out of his pocket, pulls out the extra key card and hands it to Ryan. 

“It’s weird.” Ryan says looking at the card, “Like being part of life.” 

“You’ll get used to it.” Michael answers. He tries not to worry about how holding a hotel key card seems to overwhelm Ryan. 

“I have to shower.” Ryan says, “I smell like hospital.” 

“You don’t.” Michael assures. 

“I can smell it.” Ryan insists. 

“It’s all yours then.” Michael concedes. 

The elevator reaches their floor and Michael holds the door open for Ryan. 

“We’re in 512, left, the other left.” Michael points Ryan the right way, “Open the door.”

“I know how it works.” Ryan reminds him, trying not to sound impatient. “I didn’t forget.” 

“I just-” Michael apologizes, “I just don’t want you to stress out. Like I-” 

“Just pretend it’s normal?” Ryan asks, “It’s you an me.” 

“Ok.” Michael agrees, “Open the door, I can’t.” He points to the two bags he’s holding in his good hand. 

“Ha yeah. Don’t hurt yourself over there.” Ryan inserts the key card the wrong way, “Ok I would have done that before I never get these right.” 

“There’s an arrow.” Michael points out, “You never look at it you just stick it in.” 

“That’s what she said.” Ryan jokes before turning the card around and opening the door. 

The room is cleaner than it’s been since Michael’s checked in. With all of Devon’s stuff gone and the sofa bed folded back it looks larger. Ryan’s bags are next to Michael’s suitcase near the television cabinet and both their overnight bags are open on the luggage racks. 

Ryan’s macbook is on the desk and the bed is made. There are no flowers or get well cards anywhere. The curtains are shut and once the door is closed the room is totally quiet. 

Ryan sighs in relief. 

“I shared it with Dev.” Michael drops Ryan’s bags with the rest of their luggage, “It’s been kind of quiet since he left.”

“All our stuff’s here?” 

“Yeah. Your mom has your medals, they’re in the safe in her room.”

“I don’t want ‘em.” Ryan shrugs off, “The bags I had with my dad are here?” 

“Yeah like right here.” Michael points to the suitcase next to him, “That’s all of it. I put stuff out for you.” 

Ryan sits on the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table. He drops his glasses next to him. 

“It’s weird to like-“ Ryan looks around the room, “Be out? I feel like you’re gonna take me back?” 

“I’m not.” Michael says. He crosses the room to go sit next to Ryan, picking the glasses off the couch before he crushes them. 

“I know. It’s just… You got to leave… I was on that floor and in that room like everyday.”

“I know.” Michael plays with the arm of Ryan’s glasses before handing them to him. 

“It’s freaking me out” Ryan admits, “like everything was small and now it’s huge.” 

Ryan’s quiet and it’s something Michael’s not used to. Outside of the hospital it’s even more jarring. He leans his head on Ryan’s shoulder and waits for him to talk again. Waits for him to get used to where they are.

“It’s like I’m out of jail.” Ryan shakes his head. 

“Did you want to go out?” Michael asks, “There’s a rooftop, get some air-”

“It’s still raining.” 

“We’re just gonna stay here.” Michael decides for them, “Like go take a shower and get some clothes… I’ll order food. Take a nap.” 

“Yeah.” Ryan agrees. “I’m gonna nap first. I didn’t sleep last night.” 

Ryan falls asleep facing the back of the couch with his arm thrown over his eyes. Michael puts a blanket over him before lying back on the bed. He hadn’t slept much the night before either. 

Michael wakes up late in the afternoon and lets Ryan sleep. He busies himself by answering the rest of his emails and sorting through pictures of the house to show Ryan. 

The phone rings an hour later, the ring loud and shrill in the totally silent room. Ryan wakes up with a start before Michael can answer. 

“Sorry.” Michael apologizes, “I had a wake up call for when I had to leave for the hospital. I didn’t tell ‘em to stop.” 

“What time is it?” Ryan yawns. 

Ryan pushes the blanket off, stretches his arms and sits up. He reaches blindly between the cushions of the couch to retrieve his glasses. 

“Four.” Michael answers, he closes the macbook sits next to Ryan.  
“I wanted to shower.” Ryan groans. 

“You can,” Michael reminds him, “it’s our room. You’re not going to miss dinner.” 

“Right,” Ryan shakes his head, “just used to rules.” 

“It’s okay.” Michael understands, “Go shower. Then we’ll figure out what to eat.” 

“I want these off first.” Ryan holds out his wrist and shows the three hospital bracelets. 

“How am I gonna remember you’re allergic to codeine though?” Michael jokes. He kisses Ryan’s neck to apologize. 

Ryan tips his head back and groans. The sound he makes is something Michael hasn’t heard in way too long so he kisses his neck again, sucking on the skin a bit before pulling away. 

“Do that again.” Ryan demands. “Feels good.” 

Michael moves to kiss right behind Ryan’s ear and Ryan relaxes against him. 

“Keep doing that, yeah.” Ryan closes his eyes. He slithers back down on the couch and pulls Michael on top of him. 

They haven’t been together since the night before everything happened and Michael’s kind of embarrassed at how hard he gets from just listening to Ryan telling him to kiss his neck. 

Ryan tugs Michael up to kiss him. He crushes their lips together but Michael can tell it’s different. Ryan’s legs aren’t hooked around his waist and Ryan’s not rubbing up against him. Ryan’s hands aren’t touching him. 

Michael pulls away and sits up. 

“I haven’t” Ryan avoids Michael’s eyes, “like… since… you know.” 

“It’s okay.” Michael rubs Ryan’s leg. He feels like a jerk for pushing it that far so soon. 

“It might not even like work-they said because of the drugs and whatever-” Ryan says embarrassed, “But like I want you… That’s not the problem… I just-” He groans in frustration. 

“It’s your first day out. We’ll figure it out.”

“I was suppose to talk to you about it like two weeks ago.” Ryan admits cringing, “The doctor said he’d like sit down with us but I was… That’s awkward. Sitting with some dude while he talks about me getting hard. No.” 

“I wouldn’t have jumped you.” Michael groans. 

“I asked you to.” Ryan reminds him, he pulls Michael back on him, “So it’s on me and like it’s not my brain, it’s the medication. They’ll switch it if it’s a thing.”

“Tell me stuff like this?” Michael groans, his forehead resting against Ryan’s chest. “So I don’t feel like a jerk. I would have kept going.” 

“You should have.” Ryan agrees, settling his hand against Michael’s hair. “Like it might work I haven’t tried… We’re actually supposed to try… for rehab.” 

“Yeah? You got that prescription?” Michael laughs because at this point he has to. 

“If you still think I’m hot?” Ryan asks his voice unsure, “Like I still want you but like I get if you… If you don’t wanna-” 

Michael pushes Ryan’s shirt up. He kisses his abs and somewhere close to his rib before kissing his chest. He settles his legs on either side of Ryan and moves on top of him. He kisses over the fabric of Ryan’s now bunched up shirt before kissing his mouth again. 

Ryan’s breathless when he pulls away. 

“That answer your question?” 

“Yeah.” Ryan nods.

“Yeah.” Michael repeats, He sits up and pulls Ryan’s shirt back down. “You’re still you. Go shower dude.” 

The rest of their day goes by quietly. They order pizza for dinner and eat while Michael shows Ryan pictures of their house. It’s hard to imagine they’ll eventually be living somewhere that currently has plywood floors, no kitchen and a pit in the backyard instead of a pool. 

It’s more normal than they’ve had in months and Michael understands Ryan’s uneasiness about being out of the hospital. It doesn’t feel real for him either, Michael has a hard time believing Ryan is really out that even though he keeps turning the brightness of the macbook screen down he’s there beside him. 

 

While he’s brushing his teeth before going to bed Michael glances back to see Ryan standing out on the balcony of their room staring out at London. When he walks out of the washroom shirtless, Ryan is already under the blankets on the right side of the bed. 

Ryan usually sleeps on the left. It’s where he sleeps in Baltimore and in Gainesville and where he’s slept in every hotel room bed they’ve ever shared. All of Ryan’s things are on the left bedside table and Michael’s phone, his watch, his iPad and his wallet are on the right. 

Ryan isn’t sleeping; he’s holding the still wrapped pop tarts. 

“You didn’t eat your pop tarts,” Ryan turns the silver package still wrapped up in Michael’s goggles over and holds them up. 

“Um yeah.” Michael gets into bed beside him, “I didn’t wanna…” He doesn’t finish saying that the stupid pack of pop tarts covered in Ryan’s sloppy handwriting was the last piece of physical evidence he’d had to remind him that things had been normal. 

“I smuggled them all the way here.” Ryan says disappointed. “I had like two boxes.” 

“ I got the message.” Michael says.

“I made t-shirts too, I was going to wear it. I was going to make everyone wear one.” Ryan flicks the elastic of the goggles against the package, “Where d’you find them?” 

“In my swim bag.” Michael tells him because he knows Ryan has no memory of that day. “I was so pissed.” 

“They wouldn’t let you come?” 

Michael shakes his head. He doesn’t want to remember those hours now. 

“I don’t remember you not being there.” Ryan reassures him, “I don’t remember anyone being there. Like I know you were but I didn’t know.” 

Michael rubs his hand against Ryan’s back, over his t-shirt, while he waits for him to keep talking. Ryan’s skin feels warm through the fabric and Michael splays out his fingers to feel as much of it as he can. 

Michael stretches out and leans to rest his head against Ryan’s chest. Michael looks up at him and even in the darkness he can see the spots he missed when he shaved Ryan’s head. He rubs the back of his fingers against them and Ryan makes an appreciative noise. 

“I remember the lights hurting and your… you put your hand up to block it.” Ryan says quietly, “That’s what I remember.” 

Even though they’re alone in the dark room Ryan is almost whispering. This is the most privacy they’ve had since the morning before Ryan’s accident and the first time Ryan’s willingly talked about what had happened. 

Ryan closes his eyes and rubs one of his feet against Michael’s leg. He turns on his side, mashes his pillow down and tries to throw an arm around Michael before groaning out in frustration. 

“This feels weird. I dunno why.” 

“You sleep on the left.” Michael reminds him, “I put all your stuff over there. Switch.” 

Ryan kicks off the blanket and steps over Michael who rolls under him. Instead of laying back down Ryan observes the things Michael put on the left bedside table. He picks up his phone and grimaces at it

“I guess I gotta start calling people back.” Ryan complains, “I have like 500 unread text messages.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Michael says mostly because he doesn’t want to share Ryan. 

“Um yeah.” Ryan powers off his phone and sets it back down on the table, “I wasn’t gonna.” 

His sketchpad is under the iPhone with a sharpened pencil slipped into the spine of the notebook. There’s his hand lotion and his watch; his wallet and his keys. 

“You put this all out?” Ryan falls back against the pillows and lets Michael curl back up against him. 

“Yeah, I thought you’d want your things.” Michael explains because really it hadn’t been a romantic move as much as a practical one. 

“Thanks.” Ryan says, hoping that Michael realizes he means it for more than just the watch on the table. He rubs Michael’s arm, running his fingers over the edge of the cast. 

“No problem Ry.” Michael answers, glad at his final decision a few hours earlier to take a small blue box that definitely did not belong to Ryan off the table. “Go to sleep.” 

It’s not even ten and Michael’s definitely not tired. He waits for Ryan to fall asleep, waits for his grip to go slack and for his breaths to even out before he sits up in bed and grabs his iPad. 

Michael checks over their flight detail, makes sure they have a hotel room booked in Boston and double checks his email to make sure he’d answered all of the contractor’s questions. 

He grabs his headphones, leans his head back against Ryan’s chest and plays the next episode of Breaking Bad on Netflix. Halfway through the episode, Ryan turns to his side and rests his arm across Michael’s hips after a few minutes Ryan’s legs are also resting over him. When Michael moves to put the iPad back on the nightstand Ryan groans in complaint and moves in closer. 

Michael takes Ryan’s glasses off his face, he jams his pillow under Ryan’s right arm, props up his cast between them and falls asleep with his face against Ryan’s threadbare Spruce Hill Basketball t-shirt. 

When he wakes up next it’s morning and Ryan is still asleep.


End file.
